


Tell me lies (bedroom eyes)

by jenny_wren



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gossip about the new film by director Dom Cobb is already insane</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**filmnews**

Dominic Cobb has recently been seen around town with a possible new film in the offing. The Oscar winning director has been on hiatus for the last year with his wife Mallorie but now he’s back with a movie that’s rumored to be bigger and better than ever. We can’t wait.

 

**thehollywoodgossip**

Dominic Cobb is back and he’s promoting a brand new project. The famously extravagant director has been snubbed by the major film studios after his last ruinous picture where costs ballooned until it became one of biggest loss-makers of the decade.

Apparently Cobb has found private equity backing and was recently seen wining and dining long-term partner Arthur who worked as producer on all of his films. On the last film they made together the cops were notoriously called to the set on two separate occasions – that’s some break up, guys – and rumor has it Arthur point blank refused to work with him again. But now it looks like they’ve kissed and made up and Arthur will again be working on translating Cobb’s artistic vision into practical reality.

 

“Christ,” says Arthur, “Could they make me sound any more like your bit on the side.”

“Not easily,” says Cobb looking monumentally unbothered by the idea. Then his face squinches up as he thinks it over, “Maybe if they included a suggestive photograph.”

Arthur wants to hit him. “Careful, or you and Mal will be off again before you know it.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s only you.”

Arthur’s hand twitches into a fist, “Are you off again anyway? You two always make my life significantly more difficult when you’re in an off period.”

“No, no, me and Mal are good. That’s why I’m going back to work.”

Arthur lets his head drop into his hands, muffling his curses against his skin. He’d hoped they were just the usual rumors. He’d hoped so hard. 

“That’s no way to react to such great news.” Cobb stands up, reaching out to deliver an admonishing slap on the back that smacks Arthur into the table. Deciding Cobb isn’t going to do him a favor and just disappear, Arthur puts his hands flat on the table and swivels in his seat to face his irritating best friend, smile fixed on his face,

“So who’ve you got lined up to produce?”

“You of course, would I choose anyone else?” Cobb shifts so he loomed just behind him and Arthur has twist his neck uncomfortably to keep looking him in the eye.

“I told you, I’m not working with you again.” And he’s sticking to that. He might have been unforgivably stupid enough to let Cobb convince to meet up for a second time, _because we’re friends Arthur_ , but he doesn’t have to play Cobb’s game.

“Come on Arthur, you know there’s nothing like it,” Cobb leans over him, planting his hands either side of Arthur so he is bracketed against the table, “You know you want to.”

“About as much as I want to shoot myself in the head.” Which, actually, is looking a pretty tempting option right now.

“Don’t be like that.” Cobb lowers his head so his breath hits the back of Arthur’s neck. He laughs softly, “You know if someone took a picture now it would go perfectly with that gossip column.”

Arthur trembles under a rush of homicidal fury, “If you do not back off right now, I’m going to extract your kidneys through your nose.”

Cobb laughs again, louder, and backs away, patting Arthur on the shoulder as he goes. Arthur’s hands shake with the effort of restraint.

“You sound more like Eames every time I talk to you.”

Arthur’s angry thoughts derail abruptly, “Eames,” he blinks twice, “You’ve been talking to Eames?” Eames isn’t talking to him, why is he talking to Cobb? “And does it occur to you that the reason we sound the same is neither of us can stand you.”

“Then why is Eames already signed up?” Cobb retakes his seat, smiling smug and self-satisfied.

“Eames is working with you? Eames? He swore blind he’d never work with you again. You swore you’d never work with him again.”

“You know how temperamental artists can be, darling,” says Cobb in a really awful imitation of Eames, and Arthur seriously resents how his body relaxes even at that distorted echo of an endearment.

He narrows his eyes. Eames might reverse his opinions on a dime, but Cobb sticks to his grudges, “Why exactly have you agreed to work with Eames? There are plenty of good actors.”

“But we need someone who can pull off two parts in the same film.”

And damnit, now Arthur is interested in the projected film too. It must be something special to pull Eames in.

“Eames?” he parrots plaintively.

“So you’ll do it?”

He might have been able to resist Cobb, but Cobb and Eames is more temptation than flesh and blood can stand. 

“Fine, yes I’ll do it,” he agrees, already hating himself but not able to actually say no.

“Good man.”

And having got what he wanted Cobb saunters off leaving Arthur to viciously curse himself for a fool.

 

The picture of Cobb leaning over him whispering in his ear shows up in the gossip rags headed, ‘Together Again’. Arthur hates his life and everyone in it. Especially Eames.

 

**empireonline**

New Cobb movie starts production next month. Cobb is teaming up with long-term producer Arthur Levine on what is being called a re-imagining of the Titanic movie. It will be interesting to see how this lavish director intends to embellish an already sumptuous movie.

**ohnotheydidn’t**

Spotted having lunch together producer Dominic Cobb and his least favorite actor Charles Eames. After the fiasco of their last production together, the famously and fabulously expensive Interception, Eames went on record stating he would never work with Cobb again. Not that seemed to be issue since Eames was more or less blacklisted by the studios after a lackluster performance that sucked the life out of Interception and ensured its position of one of the great loss makers in American Film History.

Cobb has spent the last year on hiatus, Eames in exile on a late night tv series. Now though it seems they both might be back, and back in the saddle together. It should be interesting to see what comes of it.

 

Eames stares at Cobb, “Arthur? Arthur’s agreed to work with you.”

“Absolutely.” 

The sleek self-satisfaction in Cobb’s voice makes Eames twitch with the impulse to violence. Why on earth would Arthur agree to put himself through that again?

“We’re talking about the same Arthur?” he checks, because gossip sites are usually wrong and he wouldn’t put it past Cobb to lie, “Terrible stick in the mud. Dreadfully obsessed with receipts?”

“But he’s good at what he does, right?”

“He’s the best.” So why on earth has he agreed to work with Cobb? Arthur was the only one to emerge from the Interception fiasco with his reputation more or less intact. Directors would line up to work with him.

“So are you in?”

Eames stares some more. It had been nice to have Cobb come looking for him claiming to have a role only he could play, it had been tempered by the knowledge there was an ulterior motive, but it was still nice. 

So he had accepted the invitation to lunch with every intention of enjoying turning Cobb down firmly and nastily, but,

“Arthur,” he parrots plaintively.

“So you’ll do it?”

He’d have happily resisted Cobb, but Arthur, even with Cobb, is more temptation than flesh and blood can stand. 

“Fine, yes I’ll do it,” he agrees, already hating himself but not able to actually say no.

“Good man.”

And having got what he wanted Cobb saunters off leaving Eames to viciously curse himself for a fool.

 

Dom rewards himself with a double-shot whiskey. He’d told Arthur he was clean, but come on everybody drinks. It’s not like it’s the hard stuff.

Besides he deserves to celebrate. He’s got his ticket back to the big time. It was frustrating he couldn’t find anyone who’d give him the time of day, not even private equity who ought to know they should put up and shut up, without the promise of Arthur to keep an eye on things but it wasn’t like Arthur wasn’t useful. He’d have wanted him anyway because he’s never met anybody better and tuning his visions in to reality.

So Arthur’s not exactly a hardship, even if he’s enough of a nag you’d think he actually was Dom’s wife, and if he has to finesse Eames to get Arthur, well Dom will put up with that to get back to his rightful place at the top.

 

**thehollywoodgossip** – Back together again 

Dominic Cobb is reassembling the team that created magnificent flop Interception. He’s wooed back producer Arthur and set aside his differences with leading man Eames. Industry experts are torn between predicting success and utter chaos. We just know that we can’t wait to see what happens next.


	2. Chapter 2

**National Enquirer** – Is Lilla headed for heartbreak?

Lilla Ferguson posed with the cast for the obligatory shots at the premiere of her first film ‘Hope & Kisses’ but all her attention was on her handsome escort. She and Eames, her co-star in Emmy award winning drama ‘Last Dance’, have always previously denied rumors of an affair but tonight they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Lilla, looking glamorous in a low cut emerald green dress and sky-high heels, hung on tight to her leading man and sadly she needs to. Eames remains perennially unattached but has been linked to many of Hollywood’s brightest stars. Most famously he was reputedly behind the breakdown of the dazzling Mallorie Cobb’s first marriage to her film director husband Dominic.

Still the Cobbs got back together again, and again third time lucky for them we hope, and Eames has worked with them since on the flop Interception and has recently signed on for a third movie, Blue Orchids.

But with such a tangled romantic history is Eames the right man for Lila and can she keep his attention now he’s back in Hollywood instead of out in Vancouver filming Last Dance. Sources say Lilla is hoping for the best but fears the worst.

 

Arthur has possibly watched the interview clip at the Hope & Kisses premier too many times for his own sanity. It’s aesthetically pleasing on its own merits. Eames in his disreputable clothes that have somehow become a fashion choice (seriously you can find how to guides on the net, Arthur despairs sometimes) is always worth looking at and his smile has the softer edge that means he’s genuinely fond of the beautiful young woman clutching his arm.

With long experience Arthur can tell that the clutch is more ‘misjudged the height of my heels’ rather than anything meaningful. Eames is justly popular as an escort with his female co-stars. He has an astounding ability to say, _we’re just friends,_ with the exactly right amount of leer that allows claims of an affair to either be brushed aside, or polished up depending on requirements. As far as Arthur knows Eames is on the chaste-er side, for a Hollywood definition of chaste anyway.

Of course Arthur doesn’t know Eames all that well any more.

Lilla does great with the interviewer, answering the questions with enthusiasm and just enough originality. She also manages to casually name-check the three most important people on the set, none of whom was the director. Arthur suspects Eames has been coaching her.

Then of course the interviewer turns to Eames,

“So we’re hearing talk that you have a new film lined up.”

Eames does that thing where he stretches and somehow expands himself to fill the screen, “Yes, I’m pleased to confirm I’ll be joining the cast of the new Dom Cobb picture Blue Orchids.”

“Didn’t you once state that you were never going to work with him again,” the interviewer smiles coyly as she springs her trap.

Of course Eames is never going to get caught by something so obvious, he grins wider and toothier, 

“I think you’ll find my exact words were, if I have to work with that sodding tosser again, I’m going to bloody strangle him. But really who’s going to turn down a chance to work with – ”

He trails off there, and the interviewer helpfully fills in, “the amazing Dominic Cobb.”

“You said it not me,” says Eames, and smiles, his eyes full of secrets.

 

Arthur’s studied that expression from every angle, because what does it mean? 

Eames had deflected well and made those snarled out words sound like some kind of casual artistic difference, but why. Eames has never thought Cobb was amazing. And yes having Cobb trash talking him up and down town had stalled Eames’ career, but Arthur could have fixed that if Eames had just let him. Did Eames really prefer running to Cobb over talking to Arthur? Did Eames even know Arthur was going to be working on the film when he signed up?

He bites his lip and watches the rest because it soothes his spiteful heart.

Eames turns to Lilla and says,

“Lilla, my lovely, which is your favorite Cobb movie?”

“Midnight at Saragossa,” says Lilla. And Arthur thinks, oooh burn. 

Midnight at Saragossa was Cobb’s second picture and the least Cobb-like of all because it was mostly directed by Miles until he had to drop out after suffering heart trouble. Cobb replaced his mentor at the eleventh hour and, honestly, spent most of the filming mooning over its female star. It was the start of Cobb and Mal’s grand romance and has a sacrosanct place in the hearts of the Cobbs’ fans but to anyone in the industry it barely counts as a Cobb picture.

Eames blinks in surprise, then nods seriously, “I particularly like the campfire scenes. The light is handled brilliantly to create this amazing close and intimate atmosphere.”

The interviewer is off and burbling abut Cobb’s visionary genius and Arthur is left staring at the screen because that was an even more blatant dig at Cobb than Lilla’s. Close and intimate is not how anyone would chose to describe Cobb’s swooping, extreme wide shots, style.

And Eames knows perfectly well those scenes were shot before Cobb arrived on set because Arthur told him all about it one night when he was maudlin and over-tired. Those scenes were the last time he and Mal worked together as friends, instead of he and Mal-and-Dom working together as friends. 

Of course these days Arthur’s desperately nostalgic for the days he and Mal-and-Dom worked together as friends.

He flips his laptop shut with a snap before he gets any further with those thoughts. He misses them so much and the fact they haven’t technically gone anywhere only makes it hurt worse.

 

**TMZ** – Ariadne Amazes

Confirmed sign up for the new Dominic Cobb movie is young singing star Ariadne who came third in last year’s American Idol. The youthful sensation has a devoted online fan base and has already tweeted her excitement over the role and we’re looking forward to lots more inside gossip to come. Follow her @ariadaneamazes

**@ariadneamazes** On set for my first day. So excited to be working with Dominic Cobb #BlueOrchids

 

Arthur stares up at the sky in hope of a revelation, or maybe just some patience.

“Fuck Cobb, why do I let you do this to me?” 

“Uh, Mr Levine?” says an anxious, too young voice, “Are you okay?”

“I’d settle for a lighting strike,” he begs hopefully but as expected he’s not that lucky so he lets his head drop forward to stare at his lead actress, who’s tiny and sweet and so new she squeaks.

“Mr Levine, are you alright?” she’s worried but it’s for him as she stares beseechingly, all big eyes and sincerity. With vivid suddenness he can see what she’ll look like wild-eyed and strung out on coke. He blinks hard to dispel the illusion.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?” she offers.

She is going to get eaten alive.

“Mr Levine?”

“Please call me Arthur,” says Arthur. He doesn’t even respond to his own surname half the time now. He lost it somewhere between being Mal’s Arthur, which he’d loved as he trailed in her wake, swamped and adoring, and becoming Cobb’s Arthur which he’d disliked when he’d thought it wasn’t true, and really disliked when he’d discovered it apparently was true. These days he’s just Arthur, which is mostly true and he’s mostly content with.

“Arthur. I’m Ariadne.”

“I thought you’d be,” he just manages to stop himself saying older – Christ Cobb, she could at least be old enough to drink – and substitutes the marginally more acceptable, “taller.”

“Me too,” she grins at him. “You’re Arthur. You’re supposed to be six foot ten and breathing fire.”

“Uh.” Arthur wants to go back and start today over again. The place is in chaos, Cobb’s on a tear, Eames is Eames, and now Arthur’s failing to meet the standards of the one person he might have expected would listen to him.

“So stupid of me,” Ariadne continues, “Everyone knows the small are the truly vicious.” She grins engagingly and Arthur is a little bit charmed despite himself.

“I’m actually taller than Eames,” he says like that is remotely relevant. Thoroughly out of patience with himself he goes back to staring at the sky.

The sky remains blue and inscrutable. Arthur does not like blue and inscrutable. 

He’d keyed himself up for his meeting with Eames, ready for anything from accusations to malice, and Eames had surprised him all over again by being bland.

Arthur had not previously realized Eames could do bland. It seemed utterly preposterous, but there was Eames being as bland and beige as a cheap motel carpet. Arthur had wanted to shake him and get any sort of real reaction from him. Instead he managed to draw himself up and be bland right back.

Now he’s had Eames wandering around for the last two days nattering with the crew, poking at things, and otherwise disrupting his equilibrium. He keeps looking at Arthur from under his lashes like he’s trying to work out what makes him tick. If he ever figures it out, maybe he’ll tell Arthur.

From behind him comes a cry of, “Boss!” 

Arthur straightens up and spins around to smile at Della who is his personal assistant and personal savior.

“Della?”

“You’re looking distinctly end-of-tetherish, can I help?” She winks at Ariadne, “He’s been up since five yesterday so he’s not exactly firing on all cylinders.”

“Oh,” says Ariadne, and Arthur can see her relax. Her smile turns more genuine and she shifts to stand nearer to Della, having sensibly picked out the friendly one.

Arthur sighs, he should be better than this, he certainly needs to be better than this. Della ignores him when he’s grumpy, Cobb deserves it, and Eames just smiles even more at him when he’s grumpy. Eames smiles are hardly an incentive to change, Arthur’s been spoilt.

He looks at Ariadne and tries to come up with something conciliatory to say and draws a complete blank before giving it up as a bad job and rounding on Della instead,

“I have slept.”

“Three hours slumped over your desk doesn’t count, boss.”

“And Cobb’s been here non-stop since last week.”

“Which is why things are such a mess.”

“Which is why things are such a mess.” As fast as Arthur fixes things, Cobb’s breaking something else. The problem is Cobb really is a genius when it comes to directing and Arthur really does respect his artistic vision, but artistic vision has to be paid for somehow and despite Cobb’s justified complaints about computer generated content there are limits to what can be achieved without it. Particularly when you favor the sort of wide shots Cobb does. 

Arthur often thinks Cobb was designed to film in the golden age of the sixties when you could afford as many extras as you wanted. He lives in fear of Cobb deciding to remake 2001: A Space Odyssey because Cobb will demand an actual space ship in actual space. 

“How difficult do you think it would it be to hire a space ship?” he asks Della.

“Oh my god no,” says Della. “You need sleep right now.” She turns to Ariadne, “He’s planning out how to film 2001 in space. He only does that when he’s crazy stressed.”

“It would be an interesting technical challenge,” says Arthur with as much dignity as he can muster, which isn’t much.

“Sleep,” says Della. “I’ve had sushi and a couch installed in your trailer. Eat something and then get some sleep. I’ve called all our suppliers and told them your signature is required if we’re going to accept their invoices so that should limit the damage Mr Budgets-are-for-Other-People can do.”

“I have to –,”

“Sleep,” says Della firmly. “I can show Ariadne around. Right?” She glances at Ariadne who nods.

Arthur thinks about his endless to-do list and nearly topples over under the weight. “Sleep,” he agrees, because he’s no good to anybody like this and in a few more hours he’ll start craving something stronger than coffee and that won’t help anything.

He ignores the sushi just collapses on the couch as unconscious hits him like hammer.

The angry buzz of his phone wakes him an indeterminate time later and after grappling blindly with it he manages to blink his eyes clear enough to read the blurry text Della sent him.

M-SOS

Oh shit. Arthur scrabbles to feet and stumbles to the rescue.


	3. Chapter 3

**empireonline** \- A Constant Lady: Still Crazy After All These Years

Numerous commenters are asking why director Dominic Cobb seems hell-bent on reassembling the team that produced notorious flop Interception. Surely the simple answer is that the same team were responsible for Cobb’s mega hit A Constant Lady. Massively successful, the hit remains the highest grossing film of all time, and has a devoted fan base. For a generation of teenagers it is _the_ romantic film of all time, forever associated with first kisses in the backseats of cars.

English Lit professors remain the sole subset of the population not enamored with this imaginative reinterpretation of Lady Chatterley’s Lover which includes completely original Jakarta prison camp scenes which raise the torture of the male lead (Eames) to fetishistic art form. Coupled with the impassioned love scenes between Lady Constance (Mallorie Cobb) and her game-keeper lover and topped up with director Dominic Cobb’s overblown visuals and hallucinatory color palette it retains an uncanny force as an almost unnerving ode to the power of love.

 

**@ariadneamazes** On set everyone super busy #BlueOrchids  
 **@ariadneamazes** Picture of friendly cameraman whos promised to make me look great   
**@ariadneamazes** apparently bounce light should be my thing  
 **@ariadneamazes** quick somebody look that up for me so i can sound like i know what im doing 

 

A Constant Lady came out when Ariadne was fifteen and like most of her friends she was one of those who saw it multiple times. She fell in love Eames and Mallorie and with the idea of movies themselves. She had no idea how to get there though and plenty of people willing to warn her about the likelihood ¬¬of casting couches, bunny girl waitressing jobs, and having her kidneys stolen.

(“Not all at the same time,” she’d protested, then thought about it for a moment, “although you know I’d watch that movie.” And her best friend Nikki smirked at her, “You’d watch anything filmed by Dominic Cobb.” Ariadne hit her with a pillow by way of reply because she maybe had a tiny crush on Dominic Cobb but it was solely because of his brilliant directing, no matter what Nikki said)

So Ariadne had picked out a nice sensible life plan with a nice sensible college course and then in what looking back what she could only call a random act of madness attended a Pop Idol audition solely to have the experience of being in front of cameras, just the once.

Except they put her through, and kept putting her through until she ended up coming third. She still hasn’t stopped being surprised by this.

And then the agent they supplied her with – she thinks she got out-maneuvered by the fourth place idol who seemed gloatingly smug over getting to work with a viciously skinny woman who looked like she consumed the souls of her enemies for breakfast on carbohydrate-free toast. Ariadne’s agent is a plump little man with crafty eyes. She doesn’t think he’s any safer but she has the comforting feeling she’s too small time for him to bother with – asked her what she wanted and she said,

“I want to be in a Dominic Cobb movie.”

And he’d laughed out loud, “Ballsy, I love it. Awright then, given his monumental fuckup last time, we have something to work with. Let me call some people.” Then he tilted his head, “It was a monumental fuckup though, you sure you wanna get involved?”

“That wasn’t his fault,” she protested, teenage dreams cut to the quick, “his marriage to Mallorie was breaking up, again, but they’re back together now.”

“Well it’s gotta be better than cutting a couple of boring albums. Let’s do this thing.”

So Ariadne had a quivering five minute interview with Dominic Cobb that she can’t remember anything about except that she could barely breath from excitement and now she’s set to appear in a movie with Mallorie and Eames and it is everything her fifteen year old fangirl heart could have dreamed of. She’d pinch herself but she doesn’t want to wake up.

A friendly cameraman, Yusuf, takes five minutes out of his obviously busy day to speak to her and she’s doing her best to sound like she has some idea of what she’s talking about, while sneaking quick glances at Della to check she’s doing okay. She’s just gotten another encouraging nod from Della when Yusuf’s face freezes.

“It is time for me to go. Goodbye Ariadne. I hope to see you again.” There’s something wrong in his phrasing it’s not a polite sentiment but an actual hope like Ariadne might suddenly go pouf and disappear in a flash of smoke.

“Fuck,” Della whispers. Ariadne turns to follow their line of sight – and there is Mallorie Cobb bearing down on them, on her.

Mallorie Cobb is spectacular even in Hollywood surrounded by the beautiful people, the vibrancy of her performances electrifies the screen but it’s no preparation for meeting her in person. Seeing that intensity compacted down into nothing more than flesh and blood is like looking into the eye of a storm when the wind is so fierce you can’t even breathe.

Already stunned Ariadne can only watch as that passion stalks her down with wild eyes. She couldn’t say if Mallorie Cobb intends to kiss her or kill her but either way she doesn’t expect to survive the experience.

Mallorie doesn’t confront Ariadne directly but slinks around her, inspecting her from all angles. It isn’t until Mallorie has nearly completed the circuit that it occurs to Ariadne to object and she turns to face her.

Mallorie laughs throatily, “So this is the little girl who thinks she can fuck my husband?”

“No, no, I would never,” Ariadne protests hastily, because she never intended, never even thought, but that old teenage crush rises up to choke her with self-consciousness as her face burns hot.

“Of course you do,” Mallorie toys like a cat with a mouse, “Why else would you be here looking all precious in your silk scarf.” She tosses her head back and laughs in shudders, “And they say the French are pretentious.”

 

**TMZ** – Top actress feud is ongoing

On being asked about the casting of virtual unknown Ariadne in Dominic Cobb’s new movie, actress Carolyn Fielding who famously clashed with the Cobbs on the set of film noir extravaganza Neon Nights said, “Well obviously they weren’t going to able to find anyone who actually knew Mallorie. I wish Ariadne the best of luck, she’s going to need it.”

 

Arthur skids onto the scene far too late. Poor Ariadne is watching Mal like a hypnotized rabbit. Della is valiantly trying to draw Mal away but is brushed impatiently aside.

“Mal,” Arthur exclaims, loud and false, and he used to call himself an actor, “How lovely to see you. I didn’t know you were coming on set.”

Mal turns on him imperiously and graciously accepts a kiss to both cheeks. “Of course I came, I had to see who was sniffing around my husband.” The glare she leveled on Ariadne should left scorch marks, and oh dear, Arthur had hoped Ariadne’s obvious youth would have made this less of a problem. The poor kid looks absolutely shell-shocked and Arthur wants to help her, but him paying her attention right now is only going to make Mal worse and the whole situation will spiral completely out of control.

“Mal come on, you know Dom’s mad for you.”

“Hah, he has not been home for four days.”

“He’s just excited about the new movie.”

“The new movie where we are not to be on set at the same time.”

“Now Mal, you know you and Dom agreed it would be better to have one of you not working for the kids.”

“And you believe that. Dear Arthur, so charmingly naive. No it is because Dom wishes to fuck his little groupies.” 

Her glare swings back onto to Ariadne. Arthur holds back a curse under his breath that Ariadne hadn’t scarpered as soon as she had the chance. He’d get Della to rescue her, but lately talking Mal down from her grand fits takes at least two people, and they’ve got to get calmed down before she finds Dom and the two drive each other right over the edge. Arthur’s too tired to deal with any of this.

Mal’s draws another deep breath, and Arthur braces himself to order Ariadne out of there, no matter that it looks like another harsh word will shatter her. He feels fierce stab of resentment towards Mal, why does she have to make him the bad guy. 

“Arthur!” 

And oh thank goodness that’s Eames, Arthur’s reaching out for him even as he runs up to their little group.

“Arthur, darling, they need you – oh – she’s already found her.”

“Eames,” Arthur grabs his wrist. There’s a dreadful temptation to just flop forwards and let Eames hold him up. Eames’ shoulders always look so strong.

“What do you need darling?”

And how is it fair that sometimes Eames can sometimes say darling like it means nothing at all and yet sometimes it sounds like it means everything.

Arthur takes a breath, “Eames, you wanted her here, you take Ariadne to lunch. Della and I need to show Mal around the set.” He looks at him pleadingly hoping Eames will go along with it, that he’ll get Ariadne out of the line of fire. Arthur’s used to Mal in one of her fits, he can take it.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” says Eames, and Arthur knows he doesn’t deserve that easy compliance but he’s so fucking grateful.

Mal turns and hisses, “So you are responsible for the pretty little nothing,” because contrary to every rumor going Mal and Eames truly can’t stand each other and Arthur has no real idea how they managed to convince everyone they were in love in A Constant Lady. He thinks the amount of drugs on set probably helped. 

It’s no great surprise they couldn’t pull the trick off again for Interception and Arthur should never have allowed his weakness for Eames convince him that piece of casting was a good idea. He finds it deeply ironic that he kept his reputation after that disaster when he’s the one that fucked up from start to finish.

Thankfully Eames is already drawing Ariadne away making it easy for Arthur to say,

“You should come and look at the costumes Mal. We’re having to keep the costs down…”

Predictably the breath whistles through Mal’s teeth, and Arthur spins on a dime from being her one savior in a harsh world to being a penny pinching miser with no scope, no imagination. So deadly dull, no wonder nobody can bear to put up with him for long.

Arthur grits his teeth and digs in. It’s better than watching the pain flare in Della’s eyes and it’s not like it means anything really, Mal’s just flailing at a world that doesn’t live up to her celluloid dreams. It’s Arthur’s issue if he lets it hurt him.

 

Who’s excited for the new Dominic Cobb movie #BlueOrchids #cantwait  
Memememe :D:D #BlueOrchids #cantwait  
Yeah it’s going to be trainwreck #BlueOrchids #Disastermovie #cantwait  
Troll. You know nothing #BlueOrchids #DominicCobbisagod  
Maybe has a point #BlueOrchids #Interception 

 

Ariadne is still stunned. Eames, looping one arm around her shoulders and hooking his fingers into her belt, practically carries her away.

He sets her down behind one of the trailers,

“You good?”

Away from the sheer magnetism of Mallorie’s Cobb’s presence she manages to blink back into herself, “I’m good.”

“Okay, let’s go get lunch.”

“Oh you don’t need to…”

“Arthur told me to take you to lunch, I’m taking you to lunch.” He pauses, “Unless you explicitly tell me my company is unwelcome, in which case I apologize for imposing myself on you.”

“No, no, no, I didn’t mean that at all.” Ariadne is making a terrible first impression. “I just, you don’t have to hang around with me. I’m not,” she can’t quite finish that sentence.

“Don’t listen to dear Mallorie. She’s not the best judge of these things. Come on, let me take you to lunch.” He offers her his arm and Ariadne accepts, because he’s being kind and she doesn’t want to be there a minute longer, and lets him lead her away.

“She was so angry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It really has nothing to do with you at all.”

“Is my scarf pretentious?” She plucks at nervously.

“No, it’s adorable.”

“But.”

“Did Arthur say anything about it?”

“No.”

“Then you’re fine.”

“Okay.” She takes a breath and feels more settled. She’s an adult she’s not going to be frightened into a shivering wreck. Straightening her shoulders she decides it’s time to deal with the situation instead of standing around like a stunned slug.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into that.” It doesn’t seem fair that Arthur blamed Eames for her presence when she’s never even met the man.

“Don’t be. I dragged myself into a long time ago.” He rubs his thumb against his lip but it doesn’t do much to hide his expression

“You don’t like her,” says Ariadne in surprise, “You don’t like Mallorie Cobb.”

“It’s not actually compulsory, my lovely. And to be fair she doesn’t like me either.”

“But.”

“So really it’s you who’s been dragged into our affairs because being my friend will do you no favors. There’s exactly one person in the world that Mallorie and I both like – and that did them no favors either.” He chews at his thumb, eyes sad.

Ariadne’s gives his arm a squeeze in sympathy, “Well we’re going to be great friends.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. We are going to rock this thing.”

 

**ohnotheydidn’t** \- Eames moves on?

Look away now Lilla. Lady-killer Eames is looking awfully cozy with new costar Ariadne at an intimate lunch for two. Is it serious? Well Ariadne’s friends from Pop Idol are expressing concern. Petra Collins, eliminated just before Ariadne, says the young star is naïve and easily bowled over by the more experienced Eames. 

**@ariadneamazes** Oh for goodness sake. It was a friendly lunch #BlueOrchids #SaveAridane #Howisthatahashtag #SeriouslyPeople  
 **@ariadneamazes** .@eamess was a perfect gentleman  
 **@eamesss** now there’s no need to be insulting   
**@ariadneamazes** I have met you ;- >  
 **@eamess** /blinking in surprise/ @arrthur is that you?  
 **@arrthur** No but this is. Receipt Eames. Or else.  
 **@eamess** #and their fate was whispered of for centuries


	4. Chapter 4

**empireonline** – The Missing Ingredient in Interception

A lot of ink has been spilled on what caused the disaster that was Interception and the usual suspects have been dragged out and discussed at length; directorial hubris, the Cobbs’ rocky relationship (they divorced soon after but are now back together), or Eames strange lack of engagement; but the real missing ingredient was in fact Arthur.

The self-effacing producer has appeared in nine of Mallorie Cobb’s eleven pictures and played her husband or potential love interest in eight of those. (In fact my research department tells me that, depending how you count, Arthur has spent longer being married to Mallorie Cobb than actual husband Dominic)

Arthur’s role as Clifford Chatterley in A Constant Lady provided a solid ballast to the grand dramatics of the leading couple. Despite the wearying predictability of replacing paralysis with homosexuality as the impediment, Arthur gave a nuanced performance that added a delicacy to the over-frothed whole.

There was no such counter-balance in Interception and the film suffered for it.

 

Ariadne ends up going out to lunch and dinner and – “I don’t fucking know, just get her off set, call it second fucking breakfast for all I care.”

“Darling, _Tolkien_ , just when I though you couldn’t surprise me anymore.”

“It’s a massive double trilogy set of films,” Arthur growls back.

“Yes, but you’ve read the books,” Eames sounds delighted by this discovery, “You didn’t even skip the really boring parts, did you darling? you’re far too tenacious for you’re good.”

Arthur hisses, “There are no boring parts you fucking heathen, you’re just… oh godamnit I haven’t got time to explain all the ways you are so very, very wrong right now,” even if Arthur’s eyes are yearning, as if he’d like nothing better than to spend the next couple of hours arguing about Tolkien.

“Come on darling, live a little. Come and have second breakfast with us.”

Ariadne holds her breath, for a moment she thinks Arthur will give way, and then there’s a shriek and a smash from somewhere behind them and Arthur’s eyes flutter shut as he sighs. He shakes his head,

“Go have fun for me, I need to deal with that.” There’s another smash and Arthur flinches. Then he deliberately straightens up, tugs his cuffs into place, and strides off to deal with the latest crisis.

Eames sighs a little as he watches Arthur walk away. Then he smiles and offers Ariadne his arm, “Shall we my lovely?” –

Anyway Ariadne goes out with Eames a lot and she would worry about, not in a #SaveAriadne kind of way but in a you’re my friend and I don’t want things to get awkward way, except it’s really, really obvious that Eames is taking her out as a proxy for taking Arthur. She does know Eames likes her at least a little for herself, away from Mallorie Cobb her self-confidence is not that bad, but Eames takes her out as often as he does because he can’t take Arthur.

Today as they collapse into their seats for high tea, Eames helpfully suggested the term for Arthur, Ariadne stares up at the ceiling in dismay.

“It’s like finding out your childhood heroine is Lina Lamont.”

There’s a great snort from Eames and she tilts her head to see he’s choking on his laughter.

“Bloody hell, you’ve done it now. I’m never going to hear Mallorie’s French accent again without thinking of Lina’s screeching.”

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry.” Eames dives under the table and reappeared with his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Carolyn Fielding, she’ll get a kick out of that.”

“Not Arthur?”

Eames sobers and he puts the phone down, “No, not Arthur, it would only make him sad.”

Ariadne feels mean even though she doesn’t understand what’s she’s done. Arthur works himself to the bone keeping the Cobbs together and the show on the road. She wouldn’t hurt him for the world. Mostly wants to make him eat a decent meal and then sleep for eight hours, an impulse she knows she shares with Della.

“We should kidnap Arthur and tie him to his bed,” she says, she and Della have wistfully considered merits of the idea at length.

“Ha,” says Eames, and Ariadne blushes as she realizes Eames’ desire for Arthur tied up in bed probably differs in several specifics from her and Della’s.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

“No, no, I’d happily settle for him getting some bloody sleep.” Fidgety, he pulls out his poker chip and twirls it across his knuckles. 

Ariadne sighs and then summons a smile for the server as she brings sandwiches and tea. Eames, who usually charms on instinct, is caught up in watching his chip dance. Finally the server realizes Eames isn’t going to talk to them and leaves. The loops of the chip slow right down until Ariadne can almost see the trick of it, and then it stops and Eames clutches it against his palm.

“I wish I’d known Mallorie before the drugs,” he sighs, “She must have been truly something.”

“She’s a user.” Ariadne feels foolish for not think of that explanation sooner. She’s as naïve as Mallorie accuses.

But Eames shakes his head, “It’s not that simple. She was a user, we all were. Frankly it’s amazing Constant Lady is remotely intelligible. That was probably Arthur.”

Ariadne must squeak or something because suddenly Eames is watching her intently.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, “it’s just I spent a year,” _years_ her conscience squeaks but there are limits to what Ariadne’s willing to admit to her heroes, “obsessed by that movie, and now I find out… You can probably hear my illusions shattering from across the room.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be unloading on you. I’ll shut up.”

“No, no,” because Ariadne will die of curiosity if he stops now, “this is fascinating.”

His eyes catch her quick and sharp, “You understand you can’t tell anybody this?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh hell, I can take it. I haven’t a reputation to lose. But whatever Arthur does to you for dragging Mallorie through the tabloids will be – unpleasant.”

She giggles because the dissonance between the grey-faced, hectic-eyed, perpetually exhausted Arthur and the mafia godfather Arthur everyone is terrified of is too much for her.

“Hey,” Eames looks at her seriously, “Never make the mistake of thinking Arthur isn’t dangerous just because he’s not malicious for fun.”

“My agent warned me. Said Arthur was the one person I couldn’t offend. That you and Carolyn might have offended the Cobbs but you could still work in this town, but Bill Lister is in jail, Miranda Hayes is back on a Vegas chorus line, and nobody’s heard of Bobby Fischer in years.” Then she flinches as she remembers the crime her agent said Bobby Fischer committed to get exiled to nowhere Arizona.

Eames’ eyes flash, “That’s all lies. Lister hassled Mallorie. It was bad.”

“Then he deserved everything he got,” because Ariadne might not like Mallorie but that sort of thing shouldn’t happen to anybody.

“Exactly. He can consider himself lucky Arthur only got him sent to jail for dealing drugs. And Miranda Hayes, well I don’t know what she did to set Arthur off because this was after Constant Lady so we weren’t exactly talking, but it’s not as if I liked the woman any, so he has my vote.”

“He’d have your vote regardless,” she says on automatic because the rest of her is remembering why Eames wouldn’t like Miranda Hayes and where she’d heard the name before and she feels like an idiot for not making the connection sooner. Miranda Hayes, along with appearing in a number of fairly forgettable romantic comedies, did an absolute hatchet job of a kiss and tell on Eames. 

Seventeen year old Ariadne had been furiously indignant about the whole thing, she reblogged about a hundred equally indignant Tumblr posts from what she can recall, but Miranda Hayes disappeared before boycotting her new movie became an issue, it wasn’t like Ariadne actually knew anyone involved and real life took back over, she had final exams, and it drifted into the forgotten and unimportant.

Arthur, on the other hand, knows Eames, likes Eames - quite a lot from what Ariadne can tell. 

(She’s not great at that sort of thing but the fact is, Arthur always gives Eames his attention, and Arthur hasn’t got a lot of attention to spare. Even Della mostly only gets his attention because she’s an extension of him at work. Ariadne herself has no chance of qualifying, that’s why Eames is always taking her out, and she likes Eames, but Arthur is an amazing person and she’s really starting to resent the Cobbs taking up all his time with their drama. 

But Arthur’s head will always turn towards Eames, even if he’s unware, or actively resists the impulse. Of course then he always has to dash off to deal with latest crisis. Ariadne thinks about how much she resents the Cobbs for taking all Arthur’s time, and is stunned that Eames can manage to be civil to them at all.)

There is no way that calm controlled vicious Arthur would have let Miranda Hayes get away with that article. The woman’s probably lucky he only ran her out of town. Ariadne wonders if she should mention the obvious conclusion Eames has somehow missed but decides she better not. The situation’s too delicately balanced and she doesn’t know enough of the background. If Della hasn’t said anything, she should keep her mouth shut.

“True,” says Eames. He studies his poker chip reflectively for a moment before flipping it in the air. “And Robert Fischer, well I can’t tell you what that was about, but it had absolutely nothing to do with him refusing Arthur.”

“I know that,” she says, because she does. She doesn’t know why Arthur orchestrated the disappearance of the former child star but she’s absolutely sure it had nothing to do with him turning down Arthur for a date.

“So be careful what you say about Mallorie in public. Arthur will put up with a certain amount of she’s difficult to work with because he’s a fair man and it’s not exactly deniable, but hint at anything more and he’ll take steps. I don’t know exactly what he said to Carolyn but he strong-armed her into dropping the idea of a tell all, which given Cobb and Mallorie were running her down all over town must have taken some doing.”

“But why?” Ariadne is genuinely baffled. It’s not like the Cobbs are even grateful for Arthur’s efforts on their behalf.

“That’s why I’d have liked to know her before. She must have been something special or Arthur wouldn’t love her so much.” He frowns down Ariadne’s protest, “Not like that, I know. But it’s love just the same. They were at TSOA together and when Mallorie dropped out of her Masters to take a film role, Arthur followed her. He’ll say he just came to hold her purse, but he was hanging on set and he was good, so he started getting dragged in first as cover, and then in his own right.”

“I tend to forget Arthur is an actor. Which is ridiculous when you think about it.”

“It’s an affliction a lot of people share. It’s partially because he never does press junkets, or award ceremonies, but mostly because he’s usually acting as a foil to show off Mallorie at her best.”

Ariadne blinks twice, “That’s why he doesn’t do press, doesn’t want to steal her thunder.”

“Well spotted. They used to do press together. There are some adorable clips if you can find them. But dear Mallorie started to get precious about it from what I can tell, probably about the same time she discovered coke.”

“But you said she doesn’t do that anymore?”

“No. She was pregnant when Constant Lady wrapped and Arthur helped her get clean. And then they did the whole thing over again when she was pregnant with James. She’s stayed off the drugs since then, but that sort of thing’s not always a switch you can just flip.” He chews nervously at the chip, realizes what he’s doing, then tucks it away and starts to investigate the sandwiches he ordered.

Ariadne makes an encouraging noise too nervous of interrupting his flow to use words.

“Well, my best guess is, and you have to bear in mind I’m not the most unbiased source, but I think that she misses the drama of it all.” He starts to pick at the sandwich crust.

“Hmm.”

“See me, I can’t claim too much credit, because I like having my head fuzz free and I don’t miss shouting matches over what color filter is the best choice, or what angle is going to give the most evocative shot.”

Ariadne maybe giggles a bit at that.

Eames sighs, “A film geek is a film geek no matter how off their head they are. Cobb and I destroyed a set arguing over who should have won the Oscar out of Shakespeare in Love and Saving Private Ryan.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I broke my hand so we were all stoned on pain pills for the next two weeks.”

“That’s somehow hysterically funny and not funny at all at the same time.”

“I know. And Mallorie and Cobb, as you might be able to tell from the divorcing and getting back together again relentlessly, enjoy that sort of thing. Me, I’d find it exhausting, after working all day I just want to take A- I mean I’d just want to take my significant other home and curl up together on the couch.”

Ariadne nodded solemnly and pretended she hadn’t noticed the almost slip.

“And I think the drugs messed up the levels in her brain, or maybe she really did enjoy the extremes, but now she’s always pushing for those extremes. Everything’s either shiningly wonderful, I think Cobb mostly gets the benefit of that, or blackly terrible. She enjoys the drama of it all.”

“Well if they both enjoy it, each to their own, but it’s not fair to keep dragging Arthur into it.”

“Preaching to the converted.” Eames flops back in his seat, abandoning the food, “None of these sandwiches are edible, which idiot thought cucumber sandwiches were a good idea.”

Ariadne pretends not to smile, “Pretty sure that was you.” He had insisted on cucumber sandwiches because that was apparently what you ate for high tea.

“I am an idiot it’s true.”

“You should speak to Arthur, he’ll listen to you.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I think you’re mistaking me for somebody else.”

“But,”

The laziness drops from his voice and Ariadne jumps as it strikes her how angry he is. Eames is a better actor than she’d realized to hide it so well. 

“Do you think I haven’t tried?” he growls, shoving himself to his feet. “I,” he cuts himself off, hands clenching into fists. After a couple of deep breathes he calms enough to say, “I’m going to take a walk around the block,” and stalks away.

Ariadne watches him slam out the door and thinks, somehow I’m going to fix this.

 

 **TMZ** – Trouble in Paradise

Eames and Ariadne have been inseparable since they met on the set of the new Dominic Cobb movie Blue Orchids. But yesterday at their regular lunch date they were overheard quarrelling before Eames stormed out. Sources say Eames has fallen heavily for the pint-sized popstar but it seems for once he’s out of luck. Ariadne’s still young, says Petra Collins one of her fellow American Idol competitors, and she’s not looking for anything serious at this time. Eames is pushing for a commitment she’s not willing to give.

Cobb’s productions are notoriously riven by personal dramas. Some good, he met wife Mallorie while directing Midnight at Saragossa, some bad, he and Mallorie divorced after filming A Constant Lady, amid claims of an affair between her and leading man Eames. Neon Nights nearly stalled in production when co-stars Mallorie and Carolyn Fielding refused to be on set together. Rumor has it producer Arthur had to organize a major script rewrite to complete the picture. And then Cobb’s latest Interception was followed by another divorce from Mallorie and then yet another remarriage. 

Can Blue Orchids survive under the strain of yet more romantic drama?


	5. Chapter 5

**@ariadneamazes** So if I tell you all about my mad passionate affair with @eamess will you start believing we are just friends #platonicfriendshipsexist #SeriouslyPeople  


**@ariadneamazes** Okay, trying sarcasm appears to have been a bad plan #platonicfriendshipsexist #SeriouslyPeople #igiveup

 

The fuss over her and Eames’ ‘relationship’ – Ariadne will never stop finding that amusing – actually nets her Arthur’s full attention for all of ten minutes the next day. Della, looking stern, calls her into Arthur’s trailer without any of her usual chatter. Ariadne not sure what she’s done and feeling small and scolded puts her hand on Della’s arm. Della sighs and pats her hand,

“I have to go talk publicity with Mal now, but come find me.”

“Thank you,” he says gratefully, then takes a deep breath and opens the trailer door. The tiny office is cramped, but neatly organized. One wall is given over to clipboards hung on nails with typed pages, hand-drawn plans, scraps of envelopes, reels of receipts and endless lists all clipped neatly in place.

Arthur closes his moleskin and pushes aside the spreadsheet of figures he was frowning over. His skin is an unhealthy color and there are dark circles under his eyes, he’s been out on the town three nights in a row with Cobb. He tilts his head towards her slowly, like it hurts to move, and smiles at her. It’s a beautiful professional smile and it makes Ariadne feel cold all over.

“Hi Arthur,” she manages, suddenly shy, and stumbles into the spare seat.

“Good morning Ariadne. I just wanted to check in with you and see if you were coping okay with all the rumors about your and Eames’ relationship?”

It’s nice and concerned and Ariadne’s certain if she had an actual problem Arthur would do his best to help her, but at the same time there’s a strained distant cast to him and Ariadne thinks, oh you are so busted, you’re _jealous_.

Intent on furthering this encouraging development she giggles and says,

“Oh the gossip rags are all nonsense, Eames is lovely.”

Arthur just manages to stop himself saying she’s right, although his whole body nods forward in agreement, after a second he says instead,

“So you don’t feel concerned or pressurized?”

He’s trying so hard to be kind, but the hand that had been flat on the desk has curled into a tight fist and Ariadne can see the white gleam of the tendons beneath his skin, so she feels justified in giggling again and saying,

“Eames is way too charming to pressurize anyone.”

Arthur twitches but stays quiet, so Ariadne keeps singing Eames praises hoping to provoke him into action.

It doesn’t work. The lines in his face deepen and Arthur just gets whiter and more exhausted.

Ariadne stops abruptly when she realizes Arthur is never going to be anything less than stoic and all she’s doing is being mean. She doesn’t want to be mean to Arthur.

“Sorry,” her laugh sounds false to her own ears, “I’m being silly because it’s absurd.”

Arthur’s eyes flair wide with surprise then narrow cold as a snake’s, “Absurd?” There’s something frozen in Arthur’s voice and a shiver rolls down her spine. Suddenly Arthur the mafia godfather makes sense because that’s the man sitting across from her now. Ariadne reminds herself she hasn’t done anything wrong except tease Arthur rather cruelly and she hadn’t meant to do that.

“Yes,” she laughs nervously, “all these stories are just ludicrously over the top. I think the whole thing is ridiculous.”

“And what does Eames think?”

Oh, and Ariadne gets it now. Arthur is an idiot. Arthur thinks Eames is interested in her and that Ariadne is laughing about it. She forgot Arthur doesn’t care if people are mean to him, he only cares if people are mean to Eames.

“Eames thinks it’s ridiculous too. He has his eye on somebody else.”

“Somebody else?” 

The danger level’s receded and Ariadne can breathe again but Arthur doesn’t look any happier. Arthur, she decides, really is an idiot.

“He has his eye on somebody much closer to hand,” she hints.

Arthur’s brow scrunches up in puzzlement. Ariadne can almost see him mentally working through a list of talent and crew.

“It can’t be Mallorie,” he says, then, “Della?”

“Oh my God, how can you be so dense?”

Glaring at her, Arthur’s back snaps straight. Ariadne has the uncomfortable sensation she’s hurt his feelings.

“He always brings Della coffee.” Arthur defends himself.

That’s a step in the right direction, “And who else does he also bring coffee too?”

“Nobody.”

Ariadne looks at him.

“Well me, but that’s because otherwise Della would share her coffee with me.” 

This is sadly true. If there’s only one coffee available they’ll add two sugars and soy milk and simply share the same cup in a sort of desperate co-dependent addiction despite Arthur taking his coffee sweet and black, and Della hers plain and milky if they have a choice. When Eames or Ariadne fetch one of them a coffee they always make sure to bring two because even if Arthur’s not actually there, Della will still distractedly make a single coffee sweet and milky out of habit and that’s just pathetic.

“I think you have that the wrong way around,” Ariadne tells him.

He laughs unhappily, “No, Eames isn’t interested in me.”

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“I know he finds me attractive, but this is Hollywood, there’s not exactly a shortage of attractive people.”

Arthur is so oblivious it’s actually a little alarming.

“Arthur.”

“No Ariadne, whatever you think you’re seeing isn’t there. Once, maybe there was something,” he laughs shakily and looks so unhappy Ariadne would hug him if she thought he’d let her, “but I, I did something utterly unforgivable.” 

Ariadne meeps but he doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes flick away from her and his expression closes down.

“And that was that,” he shrugs his shoulders, “so that’s all there is to it. Nothing very exciting.”

Ariadne opens her mouth because that is very definitely not all there is to it, and if not exciting it has to be at least horrifying because she’d have said Eames would forgive Arthur anything up to… she doesn’t even know, maiming or something.

“No,” says Arthur calmly but firmly. “I’d like you to leave now.”

Ariadne bites her lip and shuffles away to find Della. She catches Della’s eye from around the edge of the trailer and waits until Della can sneak away after getting Mallorie set up with the two interns Arthur found to fawn over her.

“Hey,” says Della, “I’ve got about five minutes before Mal notices I’m gone, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Ariadne smiles deliberately. Della’s attention is almost as hard to snag as Arthur’s but she can’t be greedy, “I think you should go and talk to Arthur.”

Della tilts her head in question.

“He told me he’d done something unforgivable to Eames sometime.”

“Oh shit, I thought he’d stopped lashing himself over that.”

“I’m not asking,” Ariadne says although she’s madly curious, and if Della thinks it was bad it’s not just Arthur being overdramatic so what the hell could it be, “but you should go talk to him, because Eames, so not holding any grudges.”

Della’s forehead wrinkles up, “You sure about that? I admit I don’t get how guys react to things, but if it had been Cobb he’d have broken both Arthur’s legs.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should be making life choices based on how Cobb would react.” 

Because Ariadne’s crush on Cobb has not survived close quarters. She still thinks he’s a genius, she just thinks he’s a genius whose film she’d rather not be in. Which is something of a problem. But then if she wasn’t in Cobb’s film she’d never have met any of the others and they’re worth it. Probably. Okay definitely. She just isn’t going to tell them that.

She heads off to find Yusuf and get him to run through camera angles with her again.

 

**Blowing Lawrence’s Mind - A Constant Lady Kink Meme**

New round in honor of the new film starring all our old favorite actors. To celebrate the new Titanic revamp Blue Orchids the first page of requests should be Titanic based. Have Constance and Mellors meeting the Titanic characters, have them meeting on the Titanic, have them watching Titanic set out to sea, have them on the Titanic and Clifford waving them off from the dock… and go!

 

OMG! I want that so bad. Clifford waving them off but secretly following them because he loves them too much to let them go, and then the iceberg happens and he’s on the ship that rescues them. But no stupid one person door this time.  
++++ huddling together for warmth before and after rescue

       Could you at least label your stupid C-squaredM prompts so the rest of us can avoid your complete misreading of canon

           Hey, C2M is a valid choice, have you seen the way Clifford looks at Mellors. It’s not even subtext.

               This is a kink meme everyone’s interpretation is equally valid.

                     Once and future by Cassino was the worst thing to ever happen to this fandom.

                          Its genius and explains everything. Your just jealous because you cant write so good

                               Your=your’re good=well

                                   Comment frozen

 

Eames recovers his temper after speaking to Ariadne, reads the gossip columns loses it all over again, and then finally recovers both his temper and his sense of humor. He apologizes to Ariadne, who thankfully finds it hilarious,

“I’m going to kill Petra though, where does she get off talking about me like that.”

“She’s riding on your coat tails, my lovely, ignore her.”

Ariadne is absolutely enchanted at the idea of having coat tails. She even tweets about it. Eames thinks he’s life would be a lot easier if he could fall her general adorableness, although given she finds the idea of them being together hilarious, maybe not.

The thing is though, Eames fell a long time ago for someone who is not at all adorable but stern, grumpy and precise as a pin (and, don’t tell anyone, utterly adorable. Arthur gets this cross little twist to his brows and that makes Eames just want to curl himself around Arthur and kiss him until it’s soothed away. Even his fantasies about Arthur are adorable. If this keeps up he’s going to have to turn in his Lothario card.)

After a restless night wrestling with his pride – and he has actually written a C2M story, he had been drunk at the time (Eames thinks it’s a sign of maturity that he’s realized ‘I was drunk’ isn’t mitigation but a doubling down of your idiocy) drunk and maudlin and thinking about Arthur which was not the best combination, when it struck him with the true force of a drunken epiphany that Arthur was the perfect person to organize an elopement (or anything really) and that Arthur was the sort of self-sacrificing jerk that would organize his beloved's elopement with someone else and in his sloshed brilliance decided that was what Clifford Chatterley had done.

Chatterley wasn’t following the two idiots around to try and get Mallorie back, he was following them to make sure they didn’t get themselves killed. After all the film had never been exactly clear how Mellors escaped the Jakarta prison camp, mostly because the film’s plot was nothing more than a horribly overstretched string linking together ‘scenes Cobb wanted to shoot’. Which annoyingly, because Cobb somehow was a genius, wasn’t such a bad way to film unless you wanted it to make actual sense.

They went through six scriptwriters and Eames thinks it would have worked better if when Constance fell off her horse in the first scene (and was carried fainting back to her husband’s manor by Eames in a soaked through shirt despite Mallorie not even being muddy except for one artistic streak across her cheek) she had bashed her head and they’d called the whole thing an hallucination.

That’s actually a popular fan theory and there are a couple of sites dedicated to the idea. But obviously if you have _Arthur_ organizing things then it all makes much more sense. And really it was only fair because the sole reason Eames escaped filming a dramatic and lingering death scene in a dark cavernous prison set that was starting to haunt his nightmares was because Arthur put his foot down about the budget. 

Eames could have kissed the put down foot when Arthur stood in front of that warehouse door, folded his arms and told Cobb they couldn’t afford any more film time there, because it had all being getting a bit too method for Eames and he had no desire to break down into actual tears. Cobb had stormed off and by the time he came back from his coke binge, the warehouse had been reassigned and repurposed and Disney was filming White Christmas II The Revenge or something similar, Eames hadn’t paid much attention to that part, too busy being grateful any more prison scenes were right out.

So it made sense for Clifford Chatterley to be rescuing the ridiculous pair from their difficulties and the whole film really did make more sense considered from that angle. So Eames wrote it all down (because as well as being drunk and maudlin he was also a little bit manic coming down from all the drugs and the experience of shooting the film itself and as long as he wasn’t trying to climb up on the roof to shout at the stars they let him do pretty much whatever he wanted) and got completely blitzed on whiskey and posted the damn thing. In his defense it was the thing that convinced him even if could drink his weight in alcohol without turning into an arsehole drunk like Cobb, that wasn’t actually a reason to do so.

Anyway he deleted everything off his hard drive after posting and just left it alone but someone who will remain nameless laughed like a drain when he told them about it and also tracked the story and told him his theory had become even more popular than the hallucination one because the slash fans loved it. He even read out some choice reviews just to be even more of a wanker, but then he also promised to never breathe a word of it to Arthur so Eames was willing to take what he could get.

Which is why he has to ask if he has any pride left anyway when it came to Arthur because he so very clearly hasn’t and all he’s doing was embarrassing himself so – he decides to stop being an idiot. Arthur is worth actually trying.

He has to admit he didn’t really try before. Not as hard as he could. He’d said the words but he hadn’t really meant them. When he showed up to film Inception and Arthur wouldn’t meet his eye, Eames had, um, he hadn’t taken it very well. He can be ungracious on occasion, which must come as a surprise to exactly no one.

On Interception he once smashed a camera rig arguing with Cobb over whether a sepia toned film would be better than black and white, because yes Cobb black and white with the occasional red is visually stunning but Spielberg’s already done it and sepia toned with white fading for emphasis would create a gorgeous tone, yes it might need to be a short but it would be exquisite, and he could see Arthur agreed with him but Arthur never argued with Cobb unless it was about the budget and Eames wanted to punch Cobb in his smug stupid mouth and only just retained enough presence of mind to shove the rig over instead.

Which probably did little to convince Arthur he was safe, sane or reasonable. Possibly Eames hadn’t quite managed safe, sane and reasonable at that point, he’d certainly sulked enough to do his fair share of sinking Interception.

But even if Arthur didn’t realize he was signing on to work with Eames, they were working together now. It was like a third chance and surely he wasn’t quite stupid enough to waste that.

So he waits until Mallorie and Cobb are distracted in each other, Cobb’s spinning Mallorie around like a music video reunion scene while Yusuf records them – if nothing else the outtakes for Blue Orchids are going to be fantastic, and sneaks off to find Arthur.

Arthur is, unsurprisingly, pouring over a spreadsheet. He glances up as Eames opens the trailer door after a quick knock.

“Hey?”

“Eames.” Arthur pushes his paperwork to one side. “Everything okay? I know the tabloids are being vicious about you and Ariadne.”

Eames laughs, “Let them. Better a made up scandal than anything they could really get their teeth into.” He shivers a bit at the thought of his relationship with Arthur being dragged through the press.

Arthur’s mouth twitches with discontent. “It’s a sign they think the films going to fail.”

“Sorry,” Eames apologizes, caught off-guard by the criticism, “I can try and – ”

“Oh no, it’s nothing you’ve done.”

Eames relaxes again.

“I meant the negative press in general. There’s too much of it. But you’re right, better this than anything real, if you and Ariadne can stand the heat.”

“Ariadne finds it funny.”

“And you don’t?” Arthur’s eyes narrow at him and he has to stifle the urge to apologize again.

“It makes me feel old,” he confesses. It’s been a long time since he found the press amusing.

Arthur’s eyes light up, “Poor baby,” he singsongs.

“I know. Were we ever that young?”

“Presumably,” Arthur’s smile fades. “It sure doesn’t feel that way.”

“Are you alright? You look tired.”

“I’m,”

“If you say fine, I’ll,” he pauses searching for a suitable threat, “I’ll propose to Ariadne on Hollywood Boulevard and let you handle the press.”

Arthur chokes on his laughter. Eames grins, delighted as the tense, too-stretched thin skin on Arthur’s face relaxes, and there’s even a hint of a dimple.

“Eames that’s awful. Do you think she’d say no or yes?”

He considers that for a moment, “I have no idea. I don’t think she’d run a joke all the way to a wedding but I can see her saying yes and breaking up with me later.”

“She’d probably leave you at the altar. You’d deserve it. It’s what I’d advise her to do if I was running the press.”

“You’re awful.”

“True. And just for future reference, you are officially forbidden from proposing to Ariadne on Hollywood Boulevard.”

“Damn there goes that plan. Well that said, how are you?”

“I’m,”

Eames looks at him, begging for honesty with his eyes.

Arthur’s head drops forward in defeat, “I’m fucking exhausted. Dom’s on a complete tear. He wants to fly everyone out to England for the country house bits.”

“I thought we were blowing the budget reconstructing the Titanic.”

“I know. And we are. We so are. I’ve had to turn down about ten different Dom-improvements and we’re still relying on squeezing out a little more money to cover post-production but that’s pretty common so we should be okay.” Arthur rubs his forehead and sighs right from his beautifully polished shoes,

“But now the country house is apparently essential too. It will be a good selling point, and should generate some good press, I just have to figure out how to sell it to Saito.”

“Saito?”

“He’s the money. Well his company, but he’s the guy signing off on expenses.”

“Hmm,” Eames tries to think how to persuade someone who’s already forked over a minor fortune to fork over some more. It makes his head hurt. He’s glad he doesn’t have Arthur’s job. He pulls out his chip and flicks it reflectively across his knuckles, “Why’d he sign up in the first place?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur isn’t quite frustrated enough to clutch at his hair but he does clutch at the air. Eames can’t quite decide if he’s happy about that or not (Arthur with disheveled hair is his kryptonite) “Dom got to him first and the deal was all but signed off when I came on board. I guess he wants money and status from a successful film.”

Eames blinks, “No,” he says urgently, “no you’re wrong. I mean yes he wants money and status but he’s got lots of that already. What he really wants is the romance.”

“The romance?”

“Sure. He’s loaded right? Money no object?”

“Absolutely.”

“So he could have gone with any director, any movie. The easy thing to do is an action movie, everyone knows that right. It’s hard to do one brilliantly, but an average one that makes decent money, that’s not so difficult.”

“Okay.” Arthur nods slowly. “With you so far.”

“So why’d he pick Cobb and a reworking of Titanic? Money and status are both at risk and the smallest amount of research would have told him that. There was a greater driving force, and it was the romance that caught him. You want to squeeze more money out of him and it’s the romance that will hook him, I guarantee it.” Eames tosses his chip in the air and catches it with satisfaction.

Arthur, who’d been staring at nothing tapping his thumb thoughtfully against his chin, suddenly jerks, head snapping around as he focuses on the chip in Eames’ hands.

“Let me see that,” he reaches out and grabs Eames’ hands. After reflexively tightening his grip, Eames relaxes and lets Arthur pry his fingers apart and pull out the chip.

“That is not your poker chip,” Arthur accuses.

“Darling,” says Eames because everybody knows the story of his poker chip, he’s told it to at least ten different interviewers before they got bored of it and they still want it for photo-shoots every now and then. He was playing poker in Vegas and down to his very last chip when a young casting agent found him and declared he’d be perfect for a romantic Graham Greenesque dissolute gambler down on his luck role. Eames kept that last poker chip for luck when he went to the audition for what turned out to be his break through role.

That was a true story in the way all really good stories were true, in prosaic facts though it was slightly less true, as in not at all. Eames had been perfect for the role because he was actually playing that role in a con (Americans fell for upper class shady like a ton of bricks, Eames had no explanation, he just knew it worked).

Once he managed to get rid of the annoyingly little twerp disrupting things he managed to pull off the con and make his getaway. Because of said annoying little twerp he had to leave in a hurry and ended up with a small handful of chips he didn’t have time to untangle and cash in. They were still in his pocket when he went to the meeting the twerp was so excited about – he hadn’t intended to but on consideration decided it was better than the twerp showing up again and disrupting things at a more critical stage.

Everyone at the audition loved the story and loved the upper class shady knowing that both would help sell the movie, and Eames suddenly had a film role. Everyone continued to love the story and Eames did simple sleight of hand on the red carpet and everyone loved that too and the only person to ever challenge him was a slim prissy buttoned up suit who snorted as Eames told the story for the seventh million time to a pretty actress with a lovely French accent.

“What?” Eames had demanded, affronted. It was a _good_ story damnit.

“If that was your last fifty bucks you’d have cashed it out and gone and challenged three different people to a,” he eyed Eames up and down for a second, “a drinking contest and tripled your money.”

Then the suit blushed and ducked his head as if he’d given too much away. Which of course he had.

“You must forgive Arthur,” said the pretty French actress, “he hasn’t a romantic bone in his body, he’s prosaic to the soul.”

Eames had laughed like he was supposed to and decided he didn’t like French accents, they were overdone. 

He failed to catch Arthur-the-suit’s eye to exchange a commiserating glance, because clearly he was the only other person to understand that the only safe bet is one you know you can succeed at (Eames’ favorite is drinking a yard of ale but _Americans_ so Arthur had been mostly right about the drinking contest), that poker requires you to have a backstop of money that will last you until you get decent cards to let you work the odds, and that there is nothing romantic about being hungry.

He couldn’t have fallen in love right then, of course, because that was ridiculous, but that was when Arthur snagged his attention and he’s never really lost it since.

“Don’t give me that,” says Arthur now, exasperated, “You replaced that chip at least three times to my certain knowledge, and you used the same casino chip each time because you’re stupidly attached to that stupid story.”

“Darling, it got me my first break.”

“You just like the role. I wonder if your fans realize just how method you are.”

Eames laughs because he really does love Arthur, “It’s a good role. I like it and it suits me. You of all people should understand that. With your _suits_.” 

Arthur throws his head back and cackles, and Eames beams, proud of himself for provoking him to outright laughter.

“Eames that is the most atrocious pun I have ever heard, I cannot believe you had the balls to come out with it.”

“Brass balls and a brass neck, that’s me.”

Arthur ducks his head, smiles small and offers, “Brass ring.”

Eames hasn’t had heard that one before but trust Arthur to find a new way to rag on him so he just smiles and shakes his head.

Arthur sighs and straightens up, his eyes drop to his hands as if he’s not sure what they’re doing. 

“So explain about the chip?” He twirls it between his fingers. “This is blank, it’s not from a casino.”

“Well spotted,” Eames sarks, not sure what’s triggered the sudden change in mood and mourning the loss of happy Arthur.

“So why the change?”

“A friend gave it to me. Said I probably shouldn’t carry a sobriety chip for everyone to see but maybe that would do instead.” Eames tilts his head away and squints up through his eyelashes to try and catch Arthur’s expression unobserved. 

“Oh,” says Arthur, which is unhelpful on its own but his eyes go all soft and unfocused. “Was that?”

“Yeah,” says Eames. 

Arthur strokes the chip with his thumb and hands it back. “I’m glad about that at any rate.”

“Thank you,” Eames tucks the chip away in his pocket. He doesn’t want to leave now, not with Arthur looking worn thin again, “Can I get you anything? Takeout instead of Craft Services?”

“No, I’m fine,” he turns away.

Eames coughs loudly because it’s either that or smack him, he thought they’d stopped playing the fine game.

Arthur pauses. His eyes squint up suspiciously but he must be willing to give Eames a chance because he says, “I don’t need takeout. I can send half a dozen people for sushi if I want. But if you’re willing to help me..?” and trails off hopefully.

“Anything,” says Eames and means it. Anything to keep Arthur from looking at him like he’s just another issue to be dealt.

“Cobb’s shooting Ariadne’s solo scenes in the library today. Will you take Mal out and flirt with her like crazy?”

Eames can feel his expression freeze.

“I know she’s been difficult lately but she loves going for a drive up in the hills. We used to do it all the time in her rattletrap of a car and promised one day we’d do it properly in a shiny convertible. Take mine, Della borrowed it the other day to take Ariadne along the coast so it’s on set.” He pulled a key ring from his desk drawer and held it out.

He accepts the keys reluctantly, “You should take her driving.”

“I’m not popular at the moment, much too dull and provincial,” Arthur’s face pinches up with hurt.

Eames wants to say it’s not fair and it’s not right, but that won’t help anything so instead he says, 

“Consider it done.” 

And he has his reward when Arthur thanks him low and heartfelt.

 

**perezhilton** –Lost in a Maze

Pop princess Ariadne is apparently going all out to lose her squeaky clean reputation. Walking away from a recording contract with its pesky image clause she walked onto the set of notorious director Dominic Cobb and into an intense public affair with disreputable costar Eames.

Eames, always willing to use a ‘romance’ to raise his profile, was dating Lilla Ferguson up in Vancouver but they’ve had their Last Dance and Lilla’s made a lucky escape with her dignity intact. Eames has three sex tapes still circulating on the far reaches of the internet. And while one sex tape can be considered misfortune, two looks like carelessness, and three is a pattern.

That its male star could appear in sex tape with another man without raising his or the movie’s profile is a damning measure of exactly how dull belly flop Interception actually was. On being outed Eames admitted to bisexuality but with a lack of male partners before and since most people have written off the whole thing as a tacky publicity attempt.

However we can exclusively reveal the tape was released to cover up a much more scandalous truth. Eames has long been recognized as the catalyst for the Cobbs’ first divorce, but his affair wasn’t with the divine Mallorie, but her husband the profligate Dominic Cobb. 

Cobb’s sleazy circle also includes long-term partner Arthur notorious for blacklisting former child star Robert Fischer after their affair broke down. Fischer has since vanished without a trace. Is this the fate awaiting Ariadne?

       
     


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just come back off holiday where when they promised wireless internet they meant - if you stand outside with your arm in the air your tablet should be able to pick up a signal - the electricity cut out twice, and the water gave out the day before we came home. It was a great holiday but not very conducive to posting anything.

**TMZ** – No Denial of Affair Claims

Perez Hilton’s claims of an affair between Dominic Cobb and actor Eames have received suspiciously few denials from either man. Eames, known for workplace romances has made no statement and is ‘unavailable for comment at this time.’

Dominic and wife Mallorie meanwhile has issued a joint statement. Their publicist said, ‘Dominic and Mallorie have divorced and remarried since the period in question. It is in the past and they intend to leave it here and would ask for privacy at this time.’

Given Eames is again filming with the couple it would seem that the past is very much in the present. 

 

Eames is woken at half-six by his phone. Arthur’s ringtone (Signed, Sealed Delivered, I’m Yours, hopefully Arthur would never find out, but if he did, what the hell, it wasn’t as if it wasn’t true) and his automatic grab for the phone stalls as his sleepy brain recognizes that. Arthur hardly ever calls him and it's never good news. A glance at the clock confirms it. Half-past six in the morning is a bad time for Arthur to be calling, like a lot of night owls Arthur is practically allergic to early mornings. 

So Eames takes a second to rub his eyes and try and force some coherence into his sleepy brain before he clicks accept,

“Hello Darling,” he ventures cautiously into the crackling silence.

“I take it you haven’t seen it?” Arthur demands.

“No-o. It seems unlikely anyway. What is it I haven’t seen?”

“Perez Hilton.”

“Oh bloody hell, that man hates you.”

“I know,” says Arthur, he no longer sounds cross, just tired. “Do you think apologies would help?”

“Well firstly you have nothing to apologize for, and secondly you ruined _two_ of his big scoops I don’t think apologizing is going to cut it.”

The first had been Arthur himself. Perez outed him on his site just before Midnight at Saragossa was released, a million years ago in Hollywood time (but a journalist with a ruined expose, like an elephant, never forgets) and as they were Mallorie and Arthur a supposed up and coming power couple, the pair of them ended up door-stepped by the paparazzi. You can see the clips on the internet (Eames has watched them more than twice, because yes he is a creepy stalker thank you very much) and they are painfully cute. 

Arthur blinking befuddled into the camera flashes, yes he’s gay, he’s always been gay, did somebody not know? sorry about that. And Mallorie hanging onto his arm giggling, yes she knew Arthur was gay, he was her best friend after all, she introduced him to his boyfriend at TSOA. Arthur pulls a face then, that’s not something to be proud of Mal, he was a complete dick. And Mallorie ripostes with, but at least he was a _big_ dick, leaving them both sniggering like preschoolers.

Three different men claimed to be the boyfriend in question, Arthur and Mallorie remained stum. It was not a very good scandal all in all.

The second had been Eames. It gave him some sympathy with Arthur’s confusion because how did people not know? He had hardly been discreet, hadn’t really realized he was supposed to be discreet. Apparently a whole lot of people had been keeping it a secret on his behalf without him ever knowing. It was sweet and possibly slightly disturbing.

It had been Perez who ran the story, Eames’ agent called him when the news broke,

“Ugh?” Eames said when he finally answered his persistently ringing phone, “Kiko is that you?” He managed a squint at his alarm clock, “Why are you calling me so early, don’t you realize how late I got to bed last night?”

“And why was that, oh light of my life?” asked Kiko, her voice so fey and airy that somewhere in Eames fuzzy head an alarm bell started to ring.

“It was an awards ceremony. You told me to go.”

“Yes I did. That’s very true. But,” losing her nonchalant tone, the words sounded as if they were ground out from gritted teeth, “I’m fairly sure I did not say fuck Blake Shuler in the back of a limo.”

“Then you should have been more specific,” Eames fired back because he was never too sleepy to be sarky.

“I shouldn’t have,” Kiko screeched back. “I took you on because you promised me no more sex tapes, Eames, _you promised me_.”

“Oh,” Eames closed his eyes and flopped back in the bed, “oh shit.”

“That in _no way_ does justice to this situation. I have Perez Hilton deftly implying you’re a deviant bisexual fucking your way through Hollywood, with a quote from Dominic Cobb about how _tragic_ it is you can’t accept yourself.”

“How lovely,” said Eames flatly.

“You’re not getting how serious this is,” Kiko no longer sounded angry, just upset.

“Hey, hey, it will be okay,” Eames soothed.

“No it won’t. Because they’ll go to _Arthur_ next.”

“And it will be fine, Arthur’s amazing at handling the press.” Arthur had lost the artlessness of his earliest interviews but he had a quiet charm, iron self-control and an absolute refusal to get flustered.

“You’re still not _getting_ it. Cobb couldn’t go after you because he’d look phobic, but Arthur will _bury_ you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he scowled, Arthur might be ignoring him but he’d never do anything like that.

Kiko sighed, “Your naivety is charming if a little unnerving. You do understand that Interception is a _disaster_ of a movie and any sort of scandal the studio can drum up will be seized with both hands. And now you’ve given them an opening, they are going to tear you _apart._ ”

“Arthur’s not going to throw me to the sharks,” said Eames confidently

“I can’t _even_ talk to you. Stay in your apartment and stay off social media or I’ll have you chopped down into sashimi. _I_ am going to try and fix this, though frankly it’s going to take a _miracle_ to save you.”

Eames rolled his eyes, he had no idea what all the fuss was about, if Arthur was on the case it was all but sorted, Arthur was the best. So he felt justified in rolling over and going back to sleep, he’d been up late after all.

Kiko was hammering on his door two hours later laptop in hand and she was thoroughly unimpressed to find Eames had gone back to sleep in the interim.

“I cannot believe you – you – you brainless barbarian flirt.”

“Kiko! A flirt no less? You flatter me, I didn’t think my charm had made such an impression.”

“Oh how I _wish_ I could shove you out the window like you deserve.”

“Come on princess, it’s not that bad.”

“You didn’t even tell me you were bi, Eames, _me_. I supposed to be your agent. You’re supposed to _tell me_ these things so I don’t get blindsided. Do you have _any idea_ how much I hate being blindsided?”

“A lot,” Eames hazarded given the normally precisely relaxed Kiko was vibrated with fury. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I thought everybody knew I was bi. I was staying with a guy in Vegas when that production scout picked me up.”

“Oh my God.” Kiko face-palmed, then remembered herself and pressed one hand to her throat in an elegantly theatrical gesture. “Oh my God. Eames you can _not_ tell anybody that. There’s sordid and then there’s _sordid_.”

Eames felt his eyebrows go up, “You think that was sordid…” because if shacking up with Carter was sordid, what the hell did that make – 

“No,” she held up one long fingered hand, “no, do not say another _word_. Wait. He’s not going to come out with some expose is he? Because it looks like we’ve about managed to put a lid on this and the last thing we need is some _thug_ coming out and wrecking it all.”

“I’m a thug. And nah, Carter got his head beaten in a couple of years ago.” Eames had told him to stop playing for stakes he couldn’t afford but sometimes people just won’t listen.

He could see Kiko stutter over ‘good’ before substituting,

“Right. That’s sorted then. So moving on. You are going to watch and then you are going to go and say thank you to Arthur and you are going to suck his cock – ”

“Kiko!”

“ – or whatever other services are required,” she continued without a trace of a blush, “because he has absolutely _saved your life_.”

“I really doubt it was that serious.”

“Yes it was, because I was all set to come over here and murder you. They would never have found the body.” Kiko glared fiercely at him, remembered she was supposed remain cool, calm and collected at all times and switched the glare for haughty disapproval she bemoaned her fate for landing her with Eames as a client.

Eames rubbed his head in the vain hope of jolting his brain into gear. He thought perhaps he should have got up when Kiko first called him but he’d figured it was just another of those things she got inexplicably excited about, talking to Kiko could be exhausting, and really it was all going to end up as tomorrow’s fish and chip paper.

“Would you like some coffee,” he tried in an attempt to stem the tide.

“You’re a _lifesaver._ ” She pecked him on the cheek and sauntered into his flat.

“Make yourself at home, princess.”

“You angel.” She slipped off her spikey heels and draped herself across his couch.

Eames made coffee.

He sat down beside Kiko and looked attentive. It wasn’t faked. He enjoyed watching Arthur any time but there was a special pleasure in watching Arthur be devastatingly competent.

The clip was shot from outside Arthur’s apartment. Mostly untroubled by the press Arthur didn’t need to hide away on an estate and as he walked at the door, he was clearly expecting them to be there for somebody else and he startled before his face closed off cold and stone.

“Jacks, what the hell are you doing here? Can’t you go bother somebody desperate for publicity, maybe –“ 

Then Jacks (because of course Arthur knows his paparazzi, you need to know people if you want leverage) interrupted cheerfully, 

“No can do, and careful Arthur, you’re on tape.”

“So what do you want me for now, the disappearance of the Mary Celeste?”

Jacks chuckled, the pack had fallen mostly quiet to let the lead wolf ask the questions,

“Tell me Arthur, what do you think of your leading man appearing in a sex tape?”

Arthur smirked, “I’d want to know who produced it, I like faithfulness in my leading men.”

“Nice try, are you really going ‘no comment’ on Eames’ sex tape?”

Arthur shrugged in the elaborately casual way he does when he’s not feeling casual at all,

“Eames has already let himself be caught on tape twice, what’s so special about this one?” His lips twitched into a quick smile, Eames was almost certain he’d come up with a withering piece of sarcasm but censored himself because an alarming number of people simply didn’t get sarcasm. Eames glowered at the laptop screen for that, and for Arthur’s crack about him letting himself be caught.

The first time, right after his first film it simply hadn’t occurred to Eames he was worth being recorded and put on the internet. The lady in question was entirely upfront about it being her decision when she posted the clip to her entire contacts list – Look who I scored!!!! – and then three of those contacts independently sent it on to the tabloids and Vivid. Fortunately because they were both more than a little tipsy it wasn’t the greatest tape from a focusing point of view and there were three clear minutes of nothing but the room’s fuzzy carpet, but they sure sounded like they were having a great time.

Eames hadn’t liked the sensation of being stripped bare in front of the world, and had felt mildly vindicated when he saw an interview where the woman said she had never expected the clip to go public and she was embarrassed that so many people had seen it and wished she’d never made the tape in the first place.

He’d been more careful after that. But he failed to realize the fuss over Constant Lady was pushing his fame to stratospheric heights and it wasn’t just fans he had to watch out for, Brianna was an up and coming actress that his agent prior to Kiko hooked him up with for the string of appearances publicizing the film. She apparently decided a sex tape was just the thing to boost her career, and had the time to do a thorough job of it. Then she leaked it and blamed him, which he thought was pushing it, if you’re going to screw someone and screw them over for your career you could at least be honest about it.

He’d complained about it to Arthur – this was back when they were still talking, mostly coordinating publicity but it didn’t take an hour to discuss that so Eames figured it counted as talking. Arthur, in between managing post-production for Constant Lady, conducted a low-key but effective campaign to convince public opinion that Brianna was the one to release the tape. This was mostly done by ensuring the production of a large number of op-ed pieces by various commentators protesting her shinning innocence in too precise detail that made it obvious she was creator.

You can never convince everyone of course and people drag it out every time they want to sneer at him but nobody in the business really believes he recorded it. Helped by the extremely unfair (but useful for him in this instance) double standard between men and women, Eames came out of the whole thing with his reputation mildly enhanced, while Brianna cornered him at the US premiere of Constant Lady and angrily accused him of convincing everyone she was a slut. Eames blinked back at her,

“My dearest Brianna, I am terribly sorry you recorded a sextape without my consent and released it on the internet, also without my consent, but I am unsure what you think I had to do with the matter given my previously mentioned lack of consent.”

They’d attracted a crowd by then. Not that anyone was looking directly at them, heads tilted away as their owners pretended to be in engrossed in their own conversations while clearly listening in on the confrontation.

Trapped, Brianna glared at the encircling backs, then turned on him,

“You – you – you…”

Which was when Arthur showed up with Mallorie on his arm, both looking impossibly glamorous but worn around the edges. Up close you could see Mallorie’s frantic, too-bright eyes and the hectic flush in her cheeks; and the makeup couldn’t hide the bruise dark circles beneath Arthur’s exhausted eyes. When Eames looked back it was easy to see why shortly afterwards everything fell apart as soon as they were no longer staggering under the weight of Constant Lady.

That night though Mallorie glittered,

“Eames, dear one, why are you over here talking to the wait staff?”

Brianna’s eyes flew wide at the insult, “I am a guest.”

“Heavens, standards are slipping. Arthur, my precious, I think you should have a word with the organizers.”

“I have every right to be here,” snarled Brianna. “At least I’m not a second rate actress with delusions of grandeur.”

“Nice to see you recognize you’re less second rate, although personally I feel it’s fluffing to call what you do acting at all.”

“I’m not the one who auditions on her back.”

Mallorie’s brows arched in surprise, “You’re projecting ma petite fleur, I’m not the one who has so many sexual partners I have to record them to keep them straight.”

Arthur snorted. Mallorie winked at him, then refocused on her victim,

“Nor the one who has so many tapes they lose track of them.”

Brianna bared her teeth at them in baffled fury. Her guilty conscience was probably making it hard for her to defend herself, not that any of their avid listeners would believe her after Arthur’s patient spadework in the press. Eames felt sorry for her but not enough to take the blame for something he hadn’t done. He was trying to think of something comforting to say and failing when Mallorie snagged his arm,

“Come on dear heart, let Arthur deal with the trash.”

Eames looked appealing at Arthur because if he thought about the tape too long it made him sick, but at the same time he hadn’t been in love with Brianna, she wasn’t important, not really. He didn’t want her destroyed, not because of him.

Arthur nodded, his head bobbling slightly as if it was too heavy for his tired neck, and patted Eames’ arm reassuringly, “Look after Mal, I’ll sort this out. Don’t worry.”

And Eames trusted Arthur so he left him to it and obediently escorted Mallorie around the room, trying not to laugh too obviously at the trail of barbed comments and gentle malice she left in her wake.

Brianna ended up guest presenting a gossip show in a segment that claimed she and Eames were victims of her very nebulous and unnamed jealous ex-boyfriend, then after a year of acting as a roving reporter for the same show, she hooked her millionaire and was now appearing in Real Housewives of Silicon Valley. Eames had mostly stopped feeling queasy when the subject came up.

So yes Arthur was maybe justified in being unsurprised that Eames was in yet another sex tape. Although Eames honestly was trying to be more careful. but after Interception and having Arthur avoid him for the entire filming process, not an easy thing to do in the cramped world of a film set, he’d seen a handsome man wink at him at an awards ceremony and figured he’d no more want to be splashed over the press than Eames himself. And apparently he’d been wrong, yet again.

He dropped his head, covering his face with his hand. Kiko kicked him, “Pay attention.”

He took a deep breath and refocused on the laptop she was shoving under his nose. Arthur was watching his ambush of paparazzi with a carefully interested face and loose arms, like a fighter waiting on a first strike.

“Because this time Eames is fucking a man.”

Arthur’s body rolled back like it was dodging a physical blow. His expression definitely flickered but Eames couldn’t see what that quick flash of emotion meant (and after Kiko left he watched it umpteen dozen times to try and catch it) before Arthur was covering his face with one hand and running it over his head, smoothing his hair back and confirming his armor was in place. It’s his most obvious tell and rarely seen (if he’s not dealing with Cobb, when it shows up a fair bit) so Eames knows it means something and it’s driven him a little crazy over the last year that he can’t work it out.

When Arthur’s face emerged from behind his hand, it was of course wiped clean of all expression but mild interest.

“I’m still not entirely sure what you’re expecting me to be shocked about?”

“Your leading man is in the closet and has been caught fucking Blake Shuler on tape, that has to breach his morals clause.”

“Well it’s certainly a breach - of good taste. Blake Shuler? Really Eames you can do way better than that.”

And that was end of anyone trying turn the thing into a scandal. In fact Arthur’s reaction got more coverage than Eames’ original sin and was played on all the major news stations. Blake Shuler fired back with, “Fuck you too Arthur,” and it turned out they’d gone TSOA together so nobody could make much of that either.

The sheer number of fluff pieces that followed made Eames suspect Arthur’s hand in the matter, particularly as Jacks seemed involved in most of them.

Practically everyone in Eames’ life from his personal trainer (yes Eames is into men too, why would that bother me, he wouldn’t go where he’s not wanted, I’m not his type anyway, what is his type? geez, give the guy some privacy) to his favorite barista at the coffee shop around the corner from his flat (Eames is such a gentleman, he’s always picking up coffee for his sweetie, what? I’m not having any of that talk in my shop, why would it matter his sweetie is a man) appeared in the tabloids with their own personal Eames is bisexual, this is not news, story. An embarrassing number of them were about Arthur, but fortunately Eames was the only one to know that.

The deluge of stories basically battered the media into submission and the public into boredom and Eames’ sexuality rapidly became a non-story. Perez Hilton collected only scorn for breaking the story and trying to imply there was something wrong with being bisexual.

So no, Perez Hilton did not like Arthur.

“What bee has the dear man got in his bonnet this time then?”

“You probably better read it yourself. It’s too ridiculous to be repeated.”

“That good huh?”

“That good,” Arthur confirms wryly.

Eames flips on his tablet and reads. Then he reads it again just to be sure he has understood it correctly, because Arthur’s right, him and Cobb? It’s painfully ridiculous. He hunts about for a suitable word to express his feelings and finally settles on,

“Blimey.”

“You always go British when you don’t know what to say.”

“This is true.”

Arthur clicks his tongue impatiently.

“You really want to know what I’m thinking.”

“Yes.”

Eames opens his mouth put can’t put the confused mess of annoyance and frustration into words. He doesn’t understand why people are interested in him, he’s very boring really, and why do they always get it so wrong? Why are there never any rumors linking him to Arthur? Not that he wants there to be exactly, but it would be nice if they thought it was a possibility. Of course he can’t say any of that, so instead he says,

“Actually I’m wondering how long it’s going to take someone to come up with threesome.”

Arthur’s bright crack of laughter makes him smile. “We can start that one if you want,” he offers.

“No leave them to it,” says Eames, “I want to see what they come up with next. Do you have any plans?”

“I’m going to kill Dom.”

Eames considers the quote from the Cobbs’ PA that, without actually saying anything that was untrue, managed to sound like a confirmation,

“Sounds fair. Need any help?”

“I’ll let you know. It’s, well not exactly good, but it’s still publicity for the film that isn’t actively predicting disaster. Which is of course why Dom gave that statement.”

“So you approve?” Eames hunches his shoulders uncomfortably, he’s not sure how he feels about that.

“No, like I said I’m going to kill Dom. I can’t believe he gave Perez a quote. And it’s Perez, there’s something more going on. He really doesn’t like me. He’s out for something better than those old Fischer rumors.”

“Which aren’t true,” Eames says, because sometimes he thinks Arthur needs to be reminded of that. 

“Eames.”

“No seriously, you worked miracles for that boy.”

“I’m glad that you think so.”

“I’m not the only one.”

Arthur mumbles a disclaimer, sounding both grateful and uncomfortable, so Eames moves on,

“Did you need me to do anything? After Cobb’s little game I don’t think I can even deny it without sounding like I’m lying.”

“I wouldn’t bother anyway. You’ll just give him more to play with. Unless you want to deal with Cobb delicately implying you broke his heart.”

“Dear Dominic never did anything delicately in his life.”

Arthur snorts.

“Oh go ahead and laugh darling, you know you want to.”

He huffs. “Can you go and pick up Ariadne. Apparently the press are staking out her apartment, I told her to sit tight until I could get someone out to her. I’d send Della but I’ve told her to corral Dom and Mal before they get any more bright ideas. Apparently Mal was throwing things out the window and cursing down the phone because Dom didn’t have the sense to clear his little plan with her first. So you might want to keep your head down for a bit.

Eames sighs, oh today is going to be just wonderful, “I absolutely insist I get to join in on the plan to kill Cobb.”

“I think I’ve seen this movie.”

“It would be a great movie, we should film it next. A movie within a movie about a director being killed and then the director would get killed. It would be excellent. And we could run fake newspaper reports about Cobb being dead for publicity.”

“You mean you’d film another movie with Dom?”

“You can’t say anything darling, you’re the one who doesn’t seem to be able to turn him down. And we could do six different alternate endings so each of us got a chance to do the deed. Just think how therapeutic it would be to murder him over and over.”

Arthur is silent for a moment then hmms thoughtfully. “I think the most disturbing thing about that is you believe only six people want to murder Dom.”

“Artistic license,” Eames says airily, then puts the phone down so he can be sure to have the last word. He fondly imagines he can hear Arthur calling him a cheat over the ether.

Then he crawls out of bed to face the day and find out in detail exactly how much Dominic Cobb has screwed him over this time around.

 

**thehollywoodgossip** \- 

Dominic Cobb’s troubled Blue Orchids set was in lockdown today after Perez Hilton exposed some of the skeletons in its cast’s closets. Cobb and his wife Mallorie arrived in the same car in a show of togetherness. The Cobb’s PA issued a statement that they’d had reconciled and asked for privacy.

Eames, the man at the center of the storm, arrived together with new girlfriend the youthful Ariadne in defiance of criticism over their relationship. Ariadne carried a handwritten cardboard sign #platonicfriendshipsexist #SeriouslyPeople, a reference to her twitter feed where she continues to deny they are more than friends.

 

**ohnotheydidnt** – Mallorie Cobb devastated by husband’s affair with male costar

Sensational breaking news from Perez Hilton about the love triangle between film director Dominic Cobb, wife Mallorie, and lead actor Eames. It turns out Mallorie wasn’t the Cobb Eames was sleeping with, it was her husband Dominic.

The Cobbs divorced (for the first time) after their hit film A Constant Lady. They filed jointly citing ‘irreconcilable differences’ and blaming the pressure of working together as director and actress. However it was generally understood at the time that Mallorie’s affair with her co-star Eames was the final straw. It now appears she was the innocent party.

A source close to the actress has said that, ‘of course Mallorie knew about her husband’s affair. She was devastated but she couldn’t bear for anyone to know her husband had cheated on her with another man, she preferred to take the blame for the affair herself.’

 

Arthur’s on the phone to Saito convincing him that yes, everything is fine, yes I’d be delighted to come and see you and run through the recent issues, while not admitted that he can’t leave the set while things are so volatile, and that he was planning on dropping by anyway because they need more money. It’s mostly working only because Saito’s clearly reserving final judgement until he speaks to Arthur in person.

That is not going to be a fun meeting. He wishes he could take Eames with him. Eames is a natural with the money men, effortlessly charming but he never loses sight of the main goal the way Mal and Dom tend to.

It’s Della who hands him the article, wincing as she does so. Arthur glances at the headline, then hurriedly wraps up his conversation Saito, yes he’ll book flight tickets today and send Saito’s PA the details, thank you and goodbye, Della please make a note of that, and, fuck I’m going to murder Mal.

“I’m sorry,” says Della instantly, “She was so mad this morning I was concentrating on trying to stop her destroying the house. I should have grabbed the phone off her sooner.”

“It’s not your fault,” Arthur snaps, “It’s not your job to wrangle crazy people.”

“Not yours either,” she mutters. Arthur ignores her,

“I suppose Dom was no help.”

“He was giving a speech about soulmates and trains. I couldn’t catch most of it because Mal was swearing in French.”

“It’s okay, I’ve heard it before.” Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s so furiously angry with Mal that he’s surprised himself. He doesn’t get angry with Mal, she’s lovely and sweet and exasperating and he loves her. Right now though he’s incandescent. 

How dare Mal throw Eames to the sharks like that. Sure her comments were fairly mild but she knows perfectly well it will rapidly mutate into a degenerate Eames corrupting the wonderful Dominic Cobb and it’s not fair.

Cobb did that sort of thing sure, but Cobb’s Cobb, Arthur has learned not to expect any particular consideration from him. But this is Mal, she knows how important Eames is to him. If she has a problem with Cobb deciding to play the cheater after years of her claiming the role, she should take it up with him, not drag the rest of them into. 

They’re batting Eames between them like he’s ping pong ball rather than a person and Arthur knows how painfully demoralizing that is. He refuses to let that happen to Eames. All three of them have brought Eames nothing but grief and it’s going to stop now.

 

**Blowing Lawrence’s Mind - A Constant Lady Kink Meme**

Guys, guys, have you seen the Perez Hilton article. Seems like CsquaredM is for realsies, we just had the wrong people in the slots. Clearly it’s CobbCobbEa(M)es. Tell me you wouldn’t pay to watch that?


	7. Chapter 7

**Daily Mail** \- Mallorie’s Secret Heartbreak

Mallorie Cobb has spent years suffering from the label of a scarlet woman blamed for an affair with her co-star Eames that ended her marriage. But the truth is she has been badly wronged. It’s been sensationally revealed today that she is the innocent victim of Eames chaotic private life. The affair that took place was between her husband and co-star Eames.

‘Mallorie was destroyed’ says a friend, ‘that a man she considered a close friend could betray her by seducing her husband. She couldn’t bear for anyone to find out. When the rumors started she preferred to be blamed for an affair that never happened than for anyone to discover the truth.’

 

How could Eames betray Mallorie like that #AConstantScandal #WTFEames

You know I bet they both fucked Eames, he seems like the type #aconstantscandal

Eames is such a slut, is there anyone in Hollywood he hasn’t fucked #AConstantScandal #WTFEames

Why would anyone fuck around with Eames when they have Mallorie Cobb waiting for them at home? #aconstantscandal #WTFCobb

I am so over all this Blue Orchids drama, I bet it’s all manufactured anyway #aconstantscandal #yawning 

Threesome, I called it. Cmon, wouldn’t you given the chance? #aconstantscandal 

Hey all you Eames haters. Eames wasn’t the married one #aconstantscandal #backoff #WTFCobbs

WTF is going on with the filming of Blue Orchids #aconstantscandal #WTFEverybody #moredramathanhighschool

 

**perezhilton** \- Fall out from affair continues

Since I broke the news of Dominic Cobb’s affair, the Blue Orchids set has gone into meltdown. Eames the man responsible has refused to comment on the destruction he has wrought on his co-stars private lives. Poor naïve Ariadne is clinging to her pretense she and the philandering Eames were never more than friends. Behind the scenes she is reported to be inconsolable and turning away all contact from her Pop Idol alumni anxious to comfort her. ‘Ariadne is out of her league’ one of them explains ‘we’re all very worried about her.’

The Cobbs show of togetherness and cozy joint statement can’t hide the tension between the couple. Pictures from their house early this morning show treasured mementos being thrown from the window to shatter in pieces on the driveway. Now the couple are no longer speaking to each other and are only communicating through their assistants.

And what does producer Arthur make of all this? He’s apparently been locked in high stakes talks with the film’s financial backer to try and retain their funding. ‘Arthur is furious’ my on-set source tells me, ‘He’s completely on Mallorie’s side here. He’s never trusted Eames. This whole disaster will just confirm his long standing aversion to bisexuals and their promiscuity.’

Arthur has spent a lot of time working with a man he reputedly cannot stand, but the explanation is simple. ‘It’s Cobb of course,’ says a friend, ‘Dominic Cobb can talk Arthur into anything. Cobb wanted Eames and Arthur couldn’t say no. But Arthur has never liked Eames because of his sexuality. He believes bisexuals are uncommitted opportunists with no morals’.

Given Eames reckless disregard for other’s marriage vows, it seems like Arthur might have a point.

 

Eames finds out from Ariadne. 

The day’s filming has been basically written off, Ariadne’s teamed up with Yusuf to experiment with trick shots and they seem to be having a whale of a time turning the world purple and doubling over the sky. The last time he saw Cobb the man was fussing over some prop or other he can’t live without. Mallorie’s somewhere about but he neither knows nor cares where.

Eames himself is hiding in his trailer, because he doesn’t want to see either of the Cobbs. The knock on the door is shyly tentative so he knows it’s not any of the usual suspects (Arthur uses one brisk knock when it’s work and a quick double tap when it’s an invite for drinks, Della copies her boss but the sound is the lighter scrape of her nails, the crew use a fist and two or three thumps, Cobb batters at the poor door like he’s trying to break in, and Mallorie never bothers with something as pedestrian as knocking, she would burst straight into his room in a swirl of skirts until Eames started locking the door and now the handle will click repeatedly until she gives up and goes away.)

Reluctantly Eames crawls out of bed and goes to see who it. Ariadne’s standing there smiling nervously at twitching at her scarf.

“Hi, what’s going on?” he asks. He’s seen a lot of Ariadne but not at her instigation. She doesn’t like to push herself forward so he’s a bit surprised she’s come to him directly, he thought it would take at least another month before she lost her bashful caution.

“Uh, nothing much,” she lies badly. That’s when Eames notices there’s a suspicious number of people hanging about watching them, and realizes Ariadne’s been deputized to deliver the bad news.

“You want to come in?”

“Please.”

He steps back to let her in, then closes the door behind her.

“Arthur okay?” he checks, because anything else, no matter how bad, will be comparatively easy.

“Uh, as far as I know he is. I think he’s talking to Della.”

Eames resettles himself, “Okay then.” 

Ariadne does not look any less nervous and twitches in place. 

“Come on then, poppet,” he coaxes, “You might as well tell me whatever it is. I promise I won’t throw a fit. Not at you anyway.” He’s making no promises regarding dear Dominic.

“Ah,” she hops from foot to foot. “Perhaps you better read it for yourself.”

Eames sighs because of course it’s the press. “Alright, lay it on me.”

“Here,” she shoves her phone under his nose. “You should read this one first to get the general idea what’s going on. He grabs her wavering hand and holds it steady. It’s a Mail article and he doesn’t need to read more than the headline, Mallorie’s Secret Heartbreak, good God, is she paying them to write this guff or is she writing it herself. He scans the article quickly because even though it’s not true it still stings if he lets himself think about it too much.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t say anything I wasn’t expecting. Let’s see the next one.” 

He braces himself because the first article was not pleasant but he could stand it. People have said a lot of not-pleasant thing to and about him over the years. He’s not sure he wants to know how the second article is worse.

“It’s Perez,” warns Ariadne.

Eames closes his eyes for a second, “Excellent. Let’s see what dear Perez has to say for himself.”

He wasn’t expecting anything great, obviously, but oh –

Reading it again doesn’t make the words change. He does find perverse enjoyment in the fact the man is so mouth-frothingly insane over Arthur that he was unable to resist throwing in a little ‘Arthur is desperately in love with Cobb’ stirring despite it not being at all relevant to the point he was trying to make. Though the idea of Arthur being desperately in love with Cobb in no way makes Eames feel any better about anything.

“I’m sure Arthur doesn’t think things like that,” Ariadne’s voice is faint as if she was standing a long way away. “Certainly not about you.”

Eames would like to believe that but, “It’s denial-bait.”

“What?”

“Denial-bait. Perez doesn’t have much of a story at the moment. After dear Mallorie’s fabrications nobody likes me.”

“I like you,” says Ariadne firmly and he smiles at her because she lovely.

“You don’t count poppet, you’re delusional.”

She huffs and crosses her arms to better glare at him.

“Anyway, certain exceptions aside, nobody likes me. So Arthur disliking me for whatever reason isn’t a story. So Perez made it as loud and outrageous as possible to try and get Arthur to issue a statement denying it. Then he’ll release whatever tape it is he has of Arthur being bi-phobic, or Eames-phobic, or both. And then the story will be about Arthur being a dirty liar and he can run it and run it.”

“I utterly refuse to believe Arthur said anything Eames-phobic.”

Eames admires her confidence, he’d like to feel the same. Unfortunately it rings true. He’s collected his share of nasty comments for being ‘uncommitted’ and ‘unable to make up his mind’ and been called a whole string of names he wouldn’t repeat in polite company. The words don’t really bother him anymore, it’s not the worst he could be called, really and,

oh fuck it, who is he trying to kid, it scrapes at all the raw places inside him to find out Arthur, _Arthur_ , thinks that about him.

Other people don’t affect him so much anymore. He doesn’t like it but he can deal with it. If they weren’t calling him out for that it would be something else. He can laugh it off and call them good little sexually repressed republicans, which usually provokes a great reaction from the gay crowd.

It’s different if it’s a friend though. Eames doesn’t have many of them and he thought Arthur was one, at least a bit. Is this why their tentative connection never went any further? If Arthur’s been quietly thinking Eames is a whore all this time, he thinks it might break his heart.

The way Ariadne’s looking at him suggests this is all showing on his face and with deliberate effort he makes himself go blank.

“I think I’ll go have a word with Arthur.”

“That’s probably best,” Ariadne nods resolute, as if she can make it better by force of will alone. She holds the door open for him, Eames takes a deep breath and steps outside. Stalking over to Arthur’s trailer with determined strides, he tries not to notice all the eyes following him.

He can’t help his stuttery pause just outside Arthur’s trailer, then he hears voices, Della low and conciliatory,

“You should issue a statement denying it.”

“I can’t,” Arthur says flatly and Eames gives up all pretense that he’s not standing there listening in.

“People deny things that are true all the time.”

“Yes and then the story gets a whole new lease of life when they’re shown to be utter liars.”

“You think..?”

“Yeah, Hilton’s hated me for years, you think he’d drag out an accusation that way without having evidence to back it up. Somebody taped me when I was – ” Arthur’s voice tails off

“Letting off steam?”

“Let’s go with that. They taped me letting off steam and Perez will have been sitting on it for a while because I haven’t lost my temper like that in a good few years.”

“You think he’s planned this?”

“I think he’s been salivating over it for ages. He wants me to issue a denial. I don’t know what he has me saying but it can’t be that awful. If he just released it, I could give context and explanation and even an apology if required.”

“Doubt that,” mutter Della.

“It would blow over so fast he’d look foolish for making an issue of it. He needs a denial and some sort of controversy to make it a story. I expect the tape of me being an idiot was waiting in the wings when he outed Eames after Inception but I spoiled that for him and he’s been sitting on it ever since.”

“Eames,” says Della so brightly that for a moment Eames thought she’d realized he was there.

“What about Eames?” snaps Arthur.

“Eames is prime evidence you’re not prejudiced.”

“No,” Arthur actually sounds angry which almost never happens, even when he clearly is. “No, I am not dragging Eames into this and exhibiting him as my pet bisexual friend. Aside from the extreme cringe-worthiness of the gesture, I am not doing that to Eames. Seriously Della, he is not a token.”

Something scrunched up tight and hurting inside Eames uncurls at that emphatic comment. He decides he doesn’t need to see Arthur and watch him stammer and blush through apologies that won’t mean half as much as that.

Instead he turns around and heads towards the front gate.

“Eames?” Ariadne asks anxiously darting up to him. “Eames think about it for a moment.”

“I’ve thought about it.” He keeps walking and Ariadne has to jog along at his side to keep up with him. Eames doesn’t slow down. She tugs at his arm but he just tows her along.

“Okay fine, but I’m coming with you.”

Eames can’t be bothered to argue. And, grateful for her support however unwilling, he slows down enough that she doesn’t have to run.

The guard at the gate squints at him, “I think I should call Arthur.”

“Oh my God,” says Eames. “Why is Arthur not running the country. He would be terrifying at it.”

The guard and Ariadne exchange glances. Finally Ariadne shrugs,

“Well he’s not wrong.”

“I’d vote for Arthur,” says the guard, “And I still think I should call him.”

“Did Arthur tell you to lock me down on set?” Eames demands, prepared to be offended.

“Not exactly.”

Eames pauses in his headlong rush because curiosity has always been his besetting sin, “So what exactly did Arthur say?”

“Uh, well, I’m supposed to call him if you have a problem, and it seems like you have a problem.”

Eames momentarily stalls over whether that level of control freakery is creepy or adorable.

“What does he say about Cobb?” he checks suspiciously.

“We send text alerts when Mr or Mrs Cobb enter or leave the site.”

“Okay then.”

The guard continues to hover, “So shall I call Arthur?”

“No. I’m fine, I’m just going to have a little impromptu press conference since they seem to be all the rage around here.”

The guard bobs his head but Eames can see he’ll be straight on the phone to Arthur as soon as they’re out of sight. Better do it quickly then.

“Eames I really think you should reconsider,” Ariadne tugs coaxingly at his arm, “A least talk to Arthur first. You’ll regret it if you say mean things about him for all the world to hear.”

He stares at her. “I’m not going to say mean thing about Arthur. Why would I do that? There’s nothing mean to say about him except he’s a hell of a control freak. And there are advantages to that.” Because Eames may have wondered a time or two thousand how Arthur’s control freakery would translate in the bedroom.

Ariadne’s face creases up with horror and she puts her hands over her ears, “Don’t say that.”

“Oops,” his leer must have been more apparent than he intended it to be. While she’s distracted he takes his chance to edge out past the gate.

The waiting press go berserk but Arthur hires good security, they’ve already got the corralled up and away from the road and Arthur’s instruction to give Eames a hand if he needs it obviously holds good because one of the them produces a small box for Eames to stand on to give him a boost above the crowd.

Eames takes his places, grins reassuringly at Ariadne (she does not look reassured) and waves his hands for quiet.

“Good morning everybody and how are we today?”

They take more pictures. There’s some shouting of questions but one of the paparazzi is making the others shut up. Eames thinks it’s Arthur’s associate Jacks.

“I’m here because there have been a few articles in the press about me and there are some issues I’d like to address.”

They’re all quiet now as it seems like Eames might just hand them a story, instead of them having to tear it out of his bloody fingers.

“Now, I would never call a lady a liar, so if Mallorie Cobb declares I had an affair with her, her husband, or her pet parakeet, then clearly this is what happened.”

“Eames,” Ariadne hisses from his elbow, “Eames, remember sarcasm doesn’t work.”

“It’s not sarcasm poppet. Do you have any idea what Arthur would do to me if I called Mallorie an irresponsible child who isn’t happy just destroying herself but wants to take everyone else down with her.”

“No, but I think I’m about to find out.”

“Ah but see, I didn’t just do that, did I, mates?” Eames grins toothily at the horde who nod in unison like a bewitched set of bobble-headed dolls. “So that’s that cleared up.”

“Wait I’m confused,” whispers one of reporters loudly. “Which Cobb did he sleep with again?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake shut up,” yelps Jacks, “I’ll explain it slowly to the idiots among us later.”

“What I have come to discuss is the ludicrous idea that Arthur is somehow biphobic. As a bisexual myself,” Eames is surprised he doesn’t stutter over that. It’s the first time he ever admitted it out loud. He doesn’t really identify as bisexual, whatever that is. He’s just a bloke who likes to get off with blokes and birds (preferably not at the same time, threesomes are trickier to co-ordinate than one would think) but people do like their labels and apparently that makes him a bisexual (Eames tends to think of himself as a human being).

Oh, and then there’s Arthur of course, Arthur really deserves his own category. Eames is trisexual, good to know.

Eames blinks back out of his temporary abstraction and sees all their faces turned to him, eyes searching, and realizes the pause has gone on too long. So he coughs and shuffles his feet and covers with the truth which is always a handy trick if you can pull it off,

“Sorry, that’s the first time I’ve said that in public, I think I’m having a moment.”

Several of the horde look almost sympathetic, and Ariadne reaches up to grab his hand. It’s a nice gesture but unnecessary. He squeezes her hand lightly and forges on,

“So I am bisexual and I know biphobia.” His hand tightens involuntarily around Ariadne’s and he forces himself to relax before he crushes her fingers. Her free hand presses warmly down over his.

“Arthur is not and never has been the sort of person who judges another by their sexuality or any other irrelevant criteria.” Eames can’t help his sudden smirk as he imagines all the criteria Arthur does judge people on. There’s probably a spreadsheet or two hidden away somewhere. “When it comes to work Arthur’s sole interest is whether you are good at your job.” Which actually explains a lot about his relationship with Cobb. As much as the man drives him round the twist, Eames has to admit the guy is very, very good at filming a spectacular movie. “However he does judge people who are malicious, careless, or appropriate other’s identities in order to seem cool or – Ariadne, what’s the current term among the youth these days?”

“Uh, hipster?”

“Perfect thank you.” Eames smiles back out at the crowd. “Arthur and I share a distaste for those who appropriate other’s identities in order to improve their hipster credentials. Sexual identity is mutable, true, but it is not something you can pick up and put down like a trendy new piece of fashion.” 

Okay, Eames apparently feels a bit more strongly about this than he realized. Now that he considers it that’s probably one of the reason he’s never really felt bi, too many people using the term for what he isn’t.

“So you don’t have any concerns about working with Arthur?” Jacks asks as helpfully as if he’d been primed with the question.

“No. Other than his tendency to work with the Cobbs who’re – Ariadne what’s the polite term for batshit insane?”

Ariadne’s face squinches up as she tries not to laugh, “Difficult maybe,” she offers, carefully casual.

“Difficult, there you go, the Cobbs are difficult. Any other questions?”

“So are you denying you had an affair with Dominic Cobb?” asks the reporter who was confused before.

“Haven’t we been through this? I don’t think it matters what I say because you’re going to ignore me anyway.”

“Any announcement regarding your relationship with Ariadne as she supported you through this difficult time?”

“We’ve definitely been through that, Ariadne has a whole hashtag. The Cobbs are difficult. This is merely annoying. Are we done yet?”

“Yeah we’re done,” says Jacks, “I’ve a story to file. See you later Eames. Try and stay out of trouble.”

The security guards move forwards ready to encourage any stragglers to depart and Eames hustles Ariadne back inside the set before anyone can decide to get obnoxious.

“Wasn’t that man being suspiciously helpful for a paparazzi?” Ariadne whispers.

“Arthur,” says Eames confidently. 

“Seriously? Or is that just your answer to everything?”

“Arthur is the answer to a worrying amount of questions. If they knew the fans would certainly shut up about the Illuminati.”

“You’re saying Arthur is an Illuminati?”

“Have they actually taken over the world yet?”

Ariadne shook her head doubtfully.

“Then no he isn’t. Arthur has more sense than to take over the world. Can you imagine the to-do list?”

Ariadne shivers theatrically, “Press conferences are exhausting enough on their own.”

They are, but right at the moment Eames is still riding the high of a successful performance so he just laughs.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Hope that Arthur won’t kill me for calling Mallorie an irresponsible child.”

Eames doesn’t think Arthur’s going to be too upset, and a mean little part of him doesn’t care if he is. Mallorie has merrily trashed Eames’ life. He could put up with her coy stoking of the rumors about their non-existent affair because she never outright confirmed it and the press merrily link him with every female he so much as passes in the street. He couldn’t really blame Mallorie for choosing to take advantage of his reputation. But he furiously resents her using him to make Cobb the bad guy, particularly as she’s painting him even blacker.

As they filter back through the crew, Eames gets a few carefully guarded thumbs up, and Yusuf gives him a congratulatory slap on the back. Somebody must have live-streamed his press conference, probably Jacks.

Then Della appears and the crowd melts away.

“Eames, Arthur would like to see you if you have a moment.”

“I always have time for Arthur.” He tries to guess what sort of mood Arthur might be in from her face, but Della’s a master at looking pristinely correct. She hooks one arm in Ariadne’s when she would follow him. Eames isn’t sure if it’s good or bad but decides it’s a good sign because he must have picked up some of Ariadne’s conviction and he’s positive Arthur will understand that Eames had to do something.

Eames raps his knuckles against the door, “Arthur?”

“Come in.”

Bracing himself Eames steps inside, “You summoned me, my lord.”

Arthur grins at him, dimples on full display. Eames allows himself relax.

“You are a bad person Mr Eames,” says Arthur, still dimpling, “I think I heard Mal’s shriek of rage all the way over here.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Arthur seems utterly unbothered by Eames’ lack of repentance and it occurs to Eames that just maybe this time Mallorie’s pushed her best friend too far.

“Sorry for you.”

“Oh. Well thank you. And thank you for the interview.”

“I can speak Americano when I need to.”

“You did a great a job.”

Eames was going to challenge such unlooked for compliments when it occurs to him that Arthur’s nervous about something, and then he realizes it’s pretty obvious what it must be.

“So tell me what really narks you about those awful bisexuals.”

“What?”

“Come on. The wanna-be trendies are annoying but you wouldn’t spout off about them. So what is it? The fact we can hide?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of is not an answer, Arthur.” And when Arthur doesn’t say anything he adds, “You owe me.” Because Eames is desperate for an explanation he can live with.

“Alright. I hate the way they hide from themselves.”

“Huh?”

“The way they’re not _gay_ but they’ll fuck guys if the opportunity arises, not that it means anything of course. And heaven forbid they kiss. They’re like hookers like that. I hate their smug superior smiles and his squinched up pug face and his mean beady eyes.”

Eames opens his mouth to say he’s never acted that way in his life but realizes even before Arthur crashingly descends into the personal that this really isn’t about him or bisexuals at all. This is about some guys and apparently one guy in particular who fucked around with Arthur and then pretended it didn’t matter. It’s sort of the opposite problem to the one Eames had of guys who’ll give you a kiss to be daring but run a mile in the other direction if they think clothes might come off. 

“You want me to go thump someone for you?” he offers.

“This isn’t grade school Eames, if I want someone punched I’ll do it myself.”

“I’m sorry though.”

“Why, it’s not your fault.”

“That you have shitty taste in guys, no. But I can still be sorry you had a bad time.”

“I _had_ shitty taste in guys, I now have bloody excellent taste in guys.”

There’s something odd in the way Arthur rolls those words around on his tongue but Eames for the life of him can’t figure it out.

“But I definitely shot my mouth off about those shitty guys and I’m pretty sure Perez must have a tape of me saying some stuff I probably shouldn’t, and I am sorry.”

Eames waves it away with a careless hand, “I’m not worried about that. Everyone’s entitled to a strop now and then.” The important part is that Arthur never included Eames in his yelling. Eames isn’t concerned in slightest about whatever Arthur said about those idiots who deserved every word.

“So we’re good?”

“We’re good,” Eames confirms.

“Good.”

They stand there grinning at each other until Arthur shakes himself,

“Okay, next move,” he stalks out the trailer

Eames follows after him, curious to see what that might be. Arthur calls the set to attention,

“Listen up people. We’re halting production for a couple of days, if you see Della before you leave she’ll give you your schedule and pay slip. Dominic and Mallorie are going to take a few days away to rest and recharge so let’s wish them all the best.”

There’s some muttering that the charitable could take as good wishes.

“And what are you up to?” asks Yusuf from the back.

“Me? I’m flying out tonight to speak to our backer. Eames is coming with me, which should put to bed any of the fuss Eames’ statement didn’t fix.”

Eames shifts, prepared to object because what happened to Arthur not using him for publicity – but then he sees the way Arthur’s smiling. It’s the particularly smug smile he uses when he’s managed to maneuver events to the point where the most logical course of action happens to be exactly what Arthur wanted to do in the first place.

Smug is a good look on Arthur. Eames is so never telling him that.

“What about me?” Ariadne asks and then flinches when everyone looks at her.

“You’re a singer, we’re not going to waste that. You are going to be recording the song for the film.”

“I what – Arthur, I can’t sing Celine Dion, my voice doesn’t do that, I’ll sound like an idiot with delusions of grandeur.”

Arthur grins, “We’re not doing Celine. I have something else in mind.”

Ariadne looks both suspicious and hopeful. Arthur’s grin gets wider.

 

**@ariadneamazes** I am sorry to have to tell you guys this but this set is so … boring! #aconstantscandal #mymiddleschoolhadmoredrama

**@ariadneamazes** Nobody has slept with anybody except Dominic and Mallorie Cobb who are married – to each other #aconstantscandal #mymiddleschoolhadmoredrama

**@ariadneamazes** I’m so disappointed. I was promised Hollywood was depraved. Nobody’s even tried to steal my kidneys yet #aconstantscandal #hollywoodisboring

**@ariadneamazes** But I have high hopes things will improve #AriadneKnowsAll #WatchThisSpace


	8. Chapter 8

**hollywoodgossip** \- #WatchThisSpace

The cryptic tweet from the girl at the center of the Blue Orchids scandals has everyone talking. Ariadne third in last year’s American Idol and now starring the most talked about movie in town issued the tweet in response to claims of scandal. While denying any current dramas she promises one to come. Is this a hint of a grand passion soon to be revealed? Ariadne has been linked to costar Eames in recent weeks although she has denied an affair. Is her tweet now a sign she’s about to go public with her new romance.

 

**ohnotheydidnt** \- Wedding bells banned

Things have been hotting up between the charming Eames and his fresh-faced young co-star Ariadne after they met working on the new Cobb movie. But the loved-up couple face formidable opposition, apparently producer Arthur has forbidden the bans.

“It’s true,” says our on-set source, “Arthur was very blunt about it, he told Eames to his face that he is absolutely forbidden from proposing to Ariadne. Eames is devastated. He was going to propose on Hollywood Boulevard, he had the whole thing planned out. As far as he’s concerned Ariadne is the one he’s been waiting for but with all the recent revelations about his past she’s not taking him seriously. She won’t go public until there’s something official between them. The sad thing is Eames would like nothing better than to make it official but Arthur is refusing to budge.”

It gets worse for our two lovebirds, we hear Arthur is dragging Eames across the country to an investors meeting leaving Ariadne to face the music alone as she stays behind to record the film’s theme song.

Ariadne’s really nervous, she needs Eames’ support as she records her first big single, and he’s furious he can’t be there for her. He’s put up with Arthur’s dislike of him but now it’s hurting some he cares for he’s not going put up with it much longer.

 

Eames turns his head to take in the full glory of the plane.

“What the hell?”

“Pretty snazzy, huh?” Arthur grins at him half shy, half sly.

“What the hell?” Eames stares some more. It is the most luxuriously appointed anything he has ever seen.

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Like it? It’s something out of the Last Days of Rome, if, you know, they had private jets back then.”

It’s all glossy polished wood and gleaming brass. The carpet is the thick plush your feet sink into and so deep Eames is worried he might not get his feet back. The rich brown leather seats set in casual groups around the space are huge by airplane standards and look squashily comfortable. The lights are a low glow, warm and intimate. Even the air smells expensive. There’s no hint of staleness or even the sharpness of air freshener. It smells of sandalwood and vanilla and somewhere the trickle of a fountain sounds. Eames is horrifyingly certain that’s actual flowing water and not a soundtrack.

He likes it very much, but he doesn’t trust it an inch, too much like the Turkish delight for him.

There are two stewards in hand-tailored black tie and two stewardess in short, tight, yet just about elegant dresses standing there with big welcoming smiles fixed on their faces waiting for Eames to stop gawping. Finally the blonde sashays forwards.

“Mr Arthur, Mr Eames. Please come in and take your seats.”

Arthur takes off his jacket and hands it to her, taking one of a pair of seats linked by a small low table. Eames imitates him and takes the other seat. They belt in for take-off, even the belt buckles glow and the straps are well polished leather.

The stewards retreat past a silk curtain to their own seats and the plane starts to rumble. He couldn’t swear to it but Eames thinks even that is quieter than normal.

He turns to Arthur, “Do you producers fly like this all the time?”

“Oh my God no,” Arthur laughs and he’s relaxed enough that’s real. Eames winces because he’s not even sure how long it’s been since he’s heard Arthur honestly laugh. “This is Saito’s private jet.”

Eames squints at him, “Does this mean that he likes you, or that he doesn’t?” Because this plane is built to overwhelm and intimidate as well as impress.

“Honestly not sure. He sent the jet after the latest rounds in the press saying it was urgent we meet. Not the best sign. So I’m just going to enjoy it while it lasts.”

“And why not?” After all life is there to be enjoyed while you had the chance and Arthur held a similar philosophy although he did his best to hide it most of the time.

The takeoff is smooth and the world drops slowly away from them. As soon as the plane has leveled out, the stewards are up and pressing them with drinks and trays of bitesize snacks. Eames gets a flirty look from both stewardesses and of one of stewards, which he thinks is overkill and wonders if they have a bet going. The other steward makes a big production of placing a napkin over Arthur’s lap until Arthur takes it off him and does it himself.

“No alcohol,” Arthur says with a sharp chop of his hand and the glittering crystal decanters vanish away to be replaced with a graceful water jug that’s a work of art in its own right.

Eames can’t decide if he’s annoyed Arthur made the decision for him, or grateful because the temptation of sinfully expensive whiskey might have been too much for him.

“Sorry,” Arthur mutters as the crew fuss over a teak and brass thing far too ostentatious to be called a trolley, “but I’m pretty sure Saito has a meeting lined up straight after we land and being hungover would make it way too easy for him.”

Eames would like to call Arthur paranoid but unfortunately he probably isn’t. He redoubles his resolve to be on his best behavior. He’s not sure why Arthur decided to trust him as backup on this but he isn’t going to let him down.

“Why did you bring me and not Cobb?” he asks and then feels stupid.

“Because I’m trying to convince Saito to give us more money, not write us off as insane. Mal’s good with a certain kind of backer, one who’s ready to be bewitched, but trying that would only make Saito more suspicious. You’re it.”

Arthur sounds incredibly pleased with himself, as if he hasn’t basically scraped the barrel to come up with Eames.

“Well good I guess.”

“Very good,” confirms Arthur. He’s looking smug again. Eames wishes he understood him better.

They’re served tea in porcelain bowls delicately painted with gold leaf. The tea itself is exquisite. Eames can see Arthur start to unwind at the first sniff of jasmine. The pressure from being on, and on set, all the time seems to be falling away from him and it’s like Eames can see the real Arthur peeking through the cracked glaze. 

And, oh, Eames has missed this Arthur. The perpetually tense and stressed out version was a rotten replacement. When they get back he’s going to figure out a way to deal with Dominic Cobb, he’s tried polite, he’s tried professional, now it’s time to consult with Della about stronger measures. He wonders if Ariadne might have some ideas, she’s a lot sneakier than she wants to let on.

After Arthur’s sipped his way through one cup, visibly relaxing in increments until he’s lolling in his seat, he warily surveys the plane and its attentive crew,

“There are beds through that curtain if you want to lie down,” he tells Eames without making any move in that direction.

“You’re staying here though?”

“I can’t sleep lying down on planes, it makes me travel sick.”

Eames doesn’t necessarily think that’s untrue, but the way Arthur is suspiciously eyeing the crew he thinks the main reason is that Arthur doesn’t want to relax too much on enemy territory.

“I’m happy here,” he says, because he’s sticking with Arthur and he doesn’t quite trust that one stewardess not to try crawling into bed with him.

Arthur fidgets for a few moments, then unclips his belt,

“Oh whatever. If I don’t get out of these clothes they’ll be one big crumple in the morning. Besides I want some sleep, Saito can’t hold that against me.” Collecting the set of silk pajamas stashed helpfully beneath his seat, he disappears into the bathroom only to emerge, in brightly patterned silk, thick fluffy socks and hair falling down over his face to flop into his seat with a wuff of breath. 

Eames has to swallow hard to resist the urge to tell him to go straight back and get changed, nobody should get to peep on Arthur without his armor.

Intercepting the steward scurrying forward with blankets, Eames hands a blanket on to Arthur himself. When Arthur merely clutches at it sleepily, Eames flicks it out and spreads it over him, tucking it carefully in over his shoulders. Arthur smiles at him.

“You look about fourteen, it’s disturbing.”

Arthur pulls a stern serious face. Eames has to resist the urge to coo.

“Not helpful, darling.”

Deciding pajamas are the way to go, Eames collects his own set and changes into smooth silk. Arthur grins at him as he comes back. Eames resettles in his seat, easing the seat back until it’s half horizontal.

“Want me to do you?” he asks without thinking it through, hastily reviewing his words when Arthur’s eyes light up with unholy delight. “Forget I said that,” he says quickly,

“But Ea-eames.”

“I said forget it. What I wanted to know was if you wanted a hand adjusting your seat seeing as you’re practically sleep-walking right now.”

Arthur hmms which Eames takes as a yes. It’s not difficult lowering the seat, but because it’s Japanese and fancy there are seven different buttons and Arthur seems to have reached the point where even operating a chair is beyond him. He’s currently smiling at the console and tilting it so it catches the light. When Eames leans forward, Arthur waves it under his nose,

“Do you this think would look effective as a part on the shuttle for 2001 Space Odyssey?”

“Oh good lord, you must be tired if you’re planning that damn film again”

“’Snot a damn film.” Arthur’s bottom lip is doing something perilously close to pouting.

“It thinks being deliberately obscure is the same thing as being clever.”

“Well obviously my film would actually be clever.”

“Obviously.”

“And now you’re just humoring me,” Arthur sulks.

“Not at all, darling. I am absolutely fascinated and I’d love to hear all about it but preferably at some point when your brains aren’t dribbling out your ears from exhaustion.”

Arthur beams at him wide and unguarded. Eames is pretty sure being shot would hurt less. 

“Here, give me that,” he grabs the sleek chrome console, actually it would look good as part of a shiny near-future spaceship set, and jabs at the buttons. Arthur’s head is nodding forward even as the chair rolls back. Eames wedges a silk cushion between his head and neck for support and then backs away before his fingers betray him and test the softness of Arthur’s skin.

Leaning back in his own chair Eames intends to think of ways to be suave and charming and convince Saito to keep Blue Orchids afloat for a bit longer, but the set has been insane and Cobb has him switching between playing Drew and the evil great-grandfather so often he’s starting to get whiplash, and basically everything has been exhausting lately.

He falls asleep before he has time to think of getting a cushion for himself.

 

**imdb** Dominic Cobb – Director

Blue Orchids (in production)

Inception

Neon Nights

The Scarlet Rose

Devil of the Deep Blue Sea

A Constant Lady

Dancing with Carmilla

Midnight at Saragossa

Tumbleweed (short)

Cherrystone (short) (as Dom Cobb)

 

Trivia

He and his wife Mallorie Cobb have divorced and remarried twice.

After Midnight at Saragossa where they met the only film Dominic Cobb directed that did not star wife Mallorie was pirate feature Devil of the Deep Blue Sea. Their first divorce followed shortly afterwards.

As well as his wife, Cobb likes to work with the same group of actors. His most successful film, A Constant Lady, and least successful, Inception, both featured British star Eames. Long-term producer Arthur has also appeared in all his films except for Inception.

One actor who has not appeared in his films is Marcus Kahanick who was signed for The Scarlet Rose but walked off set shortly after filming began. A conflict in schedules was given as the reason.

 

**screenjunkies youtube channel** \- Honest Trailers: Devil of the Deep Blue Sea

From the director who brought you that movie your girlfriend makes you watch before you can get laid comes the only 1930s pirate movie filmed this century. If A Constant Lady leads to awkward questions like would you run away and get tortured in a third world prison camp for me; Devil of the Deep Blue Sea leads to the awkward question what the – beep – was Dominic Cobb smoking and can we get some.

Get ready for a film that wants to be a gritty reboot of the old pirate classics but with golden sunsets, wide blue ocean, and vivid green islands is more of an extended tourism advert with occasional sword-fight.

Meet Captain Devil, the young dashing pirate captain travelling the ocean wave and suffering from a serious case of depressive staring out to sea. When he’s not staring moodily into the middle distance, he’s monologuing about how he wants to be out at sea moodily staring into the middle distance.

His arch-nemesis is Governor Grey is played with grim determination by Arthur, who’s not so much phoning in his performance in as semaphoring wildly for help. Anyone who believes Arthur is a second-rate actor clinging to Cobb’s coat tails should watch this, the way the man can say, _Captain Devil, you villainous scoundrel prepare to meet your end on my blade_ , with a straight face is worthy of at least two Oscars.

Love interest, hooker with a heart of steel, Livy, betrays Governor Grey, Captain Devil and Governor Grey again in a dizzying whirl of treachery that is little more than an excuse for the ex-model actress to flounce around in a succession of skimpy costumes, of which we heartily approve.

The final battle between two galleons in full sail is desperately confusing mess of shouting men and ringing steel and is utterly glorious to watch. It consistently tops fan polls and is possibly the most exciting fifteen minutes committed to film. It’s just a shame about the other hundred and fifty minutes.

Starring:  
Captain Mopey-Pants where-is-he-now (seriously, did Arthur have Robert Fischer killed or what?)  
Looks good in a bikini  
That man again (Why is Arthur still working with Cobb? Somebody should set up a collection for the poor guy)

 

**cinemasins youtube channel** \- Everything wrong with Dancing With Carmilla

It’s a lesbian vampire movie. It has no sins. Oh wait, Mallorie Cobb is not my girlfriend in this scene – Ding. 

 

Eames jolts back awake when the plane stumbles through a pocket of rough air. After a heart-thumping second he remembers where he is and recatergorizes the shaking from the world collapsing, to reasonable and not unexpected turbulence. The crew have vanished back to their seats and Arthur is blinking at him sleepily.

“Hello Darling.”

“Eames.” Arthur scrubs at his eyes with his knuckles.

“Well you look marginally less dead so I suppose that’s a good thing.”

“Why do people think you’re charming again?”

“Sarcasm up and running, check.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm, it was genuine bafflement.”

“Double check. Careful darling, you’ll hurt my feelings at this rate.”

And Arthur’s clearly nowhere near top form because his whole face lurches ludicrously towards panic at the thought Eames was actually serious in his complaint. Then, when Eames smiles deliberately light and amused, he resettles into a scowl,

“Bastard.”

“Probably,” Eames agrees with unimpaired cordiality. “There was nobody I could really ask.” And promptly winces because he’s not on top form either if he’s going around staying stuff like that. He can see the implication has been registered and stored away in Arthur’s dark eyes and is relieved when the stewards arrive bearing more tea and cut the conversation off.

The stewards are peculiarly handsy again as they serve tea and provide hot towels. Eames is used to flirty come-ons when people have recognized him (though he thinks half of them would faint from shock if he tried to take them up on it) but it’s different when he’s actually strapped into his seat

Arthur scowls and the crew finally retreat leaving bowls of tea and porcelain plates piled high with tempura which is somehow freshly fried at twenty thousand feet. Eames takes a cautious bite and it’s perfect, light and fluffy and crisp. Again he feels creeping unease at the overpowering nature of the luxury in front of him.

“You can if you want to, I don’t mind,” says Arthur with a grumpy edge to his voice that means he very obviously does mind.

“Sorry,” Eames apologizes without any idea what he’s apologizing for, “Here did you want some.” He pushes his dish towards Arthur despite Arthur having his own dish of identical looking fried perfection in front of him.

“Not the food,” he snaps, “the stewardess.”

“What about the sterwar… Arthur I am not going to sleep with the stewardess.”

“You can if you want to.”

“I think she gets a say in it too.” Eames is still leaning towards it being a bet and he’s never entirely sure with fans if they actually want to sleep with him, or just like the idea of having slept with him and he has a lowering suspicion it’s mostly the second one.

Arthur’s face does something complicated.

“Arthur,” he snaps, prepared to get truly angry, because Arthur better not be suggesting he would ever, or he thinks Eames would ever…

“Not like that,” says Arthur quickly, “I didn’t mean that. It’s only they’re, uh, complimentary. Fuck that makes them sound like bar snacks. Pretend I said something less awful, but you get the idea.”

Eames glances over at the clutch of stewards. The blond steward catches him looking and winks at him. It is not a platonic wink.

“Seriously?” he checks.

“It’s not like I asked or anything, but judging by the previous time when I was on the plane with a troop of business men from a company Saito was merging with, and, well, there were even two guys in the cockpit with the pilot, then yes, they’re definitely available, does that sound any better? So like I said you can if you want to.”

Again those last words ring false, and Eames wonders why. Because if that statement is false then what Arthur means is, ‘I don’t want you to sleep with them’, and why would that be the case, why would it matter one way or the other to Arthur. It’s something to think over later, he already knows what he’s going to do and it actually has nothing to do with Arthur.

“Oh, uh, no. Not really. Their job is their decision, but I don’t have sex with people when it’s their job.” Because even the idea makes him feel creepy and uncomfortable.

Arthur grins at him, “Me neither. Everyone hates me at work, I don’t want that in bed too.”

“Arthur nobody hates you at work.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, “It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me. I don’t mind.”

Now again that’s a lie. Did Arthur always lie this much and Eames just didn’t notice.

“You moron, nobody hates you. Della adores you. Ariadne thinks you’re great, I – ”

“You can’t count Della. And Ariadne has spoken to me maybe three times. It’s alright Eames. It doesn’t bother me. I just don’t need it up close and personal too.”

“Arthur,” Eames takes a breath as he tries to think of the words to convince a stubborn Arthur that he’s being ridiculous. His efforts are hampered by his private conviction Arthur can out-stubborn anyone and anything. Arthur does work regularly with Cobb, and Mallorie. Just one of them is enough to steam-roller the average person flat as a pancake.

He pauses too long and Arthur rushes in with,

“Cobb’s willing to indulge though.”

“What?” he demands, diverted despite knowing it’s Arthur’s intention to divert him. “Really? What about Mallorie?” Cobb? The Most Romantic Man in Hollywood? Though he supposes that title’s been diminished since Cobb claimed an affair with him.

“They were on a break. It was shortly before they got divorced for the first time.”

Eames looks at him, because seriously? He doesn’t see that cutting much ice with dear Mallorie.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Mal’s French, the French above caring about their husbands’ little divertissements.”

Eames sighs, he can tell Mallorie was lying even at one remove, why can’t Arthur. “Mallorie is not that French.”

“That’s what she told me back when I tried to…” Arthur nurses his knuckles against his mouth looking small and scolded. “They were on a break then too and I was being stupid.”

Eames’ sympathy for Mallorie abruptly vanishes.

“And Mal is right, it didn’t matter any to Cobb. It didn’t _mean_ anything. He just thought it was fun.”

Massaging his forehead with the heel of his hand, Eames wishes he felt more awake because he can feel there’s depths he’s not picking up here. Maybe the notorious volatility of the Cobbs’ relationship can be traced to such a simple origin. Mallorie might not be French but she is a Hollywood baby. Maybe he’s reading the entire situation wrong and she really isn’t bothered unless the bit on the side is in a position to threaten her professionally. Given the scalding anger that comes out at the mere potential of an affair with a fellow actress, witness her fury at Carolyn and her rottenness to poor Ariadne, there has to be some repressed emotion in there somewhere.

“And it didn’t bother you at all?”

Arthur shrinks away, “It’s not my place to be bothered.”

“Darling?” Eames reaches out to catch Arthur’s arm to try draw him back.

“Or my job to interfere,” Arthur looks dour, almost miserable, then he grins sudden and impish, “But I did make him get receipts, they’re there itemized in the expenses of Devil of the Deep Blue Sea.”

“You little shit.”

“Nobody looks that hard at location receipts but it’s all there in black and white,” Arthur’s grin grows sleepy and vindictive. 

“That’s very passive-aggressive for you.” He’s usually a lot more direct.

Arthur shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t throw Dom over the side into the sea when he had real candles set up on the Devil’s galleon, constructed entirely of plywood and varnish, for authenticity. He can consider himself fucking lucky.”

“Real candles as in lit candles?”

“Yep. One slip and the whole thing would have gone up like a rocket. He deliberately waited until I was off set and there wasn’t anybody else willing to tell him no.”

“And you didn’t throw him into the sea?” That was the least he deserved, risking everyone’s lives like that.

“I was so blindingly furious I was honestly afraid to go near him because if I’d thrown one punch I’m not sure I could have stopped.”

“He’s got weight and reach on you.”

“And he’s soft as hell. Somebody punched him once and he was so utterly stunned that he’d actually been hit he could only stand there. I had to drag them off him and wrestle them to the ground while Dom just kept repeating, “he punched me,” in an increasingly high-pitched voice.”

“So who was that?”

“I’m not going to tell you. Besides if you think about it for two seconds you’ll figure it out.”

Eames can feel his eyebrows shoot up his face.

“Marcus actually thumped him one on Scarlet Rose? How’d you keep that quiet?”

“When he’d calmed down Marcus agreed that perhaps thumping his director wasn’t something he wanted on his CV. Though he put up a spirited argument that so many people in the Industry wanted to thump Cobb he’d never be out of work if he let them know he’d actually gone and done it.”

“Probably true.”

“Maybe. But the fans would have torn him to shreds. And I’d have felt obliged to make him suffer because otherwise people would have thought they could get away with punching Cobb and I’d never have a moment’s peace. He stopped arguing at that point and started laughing instead.”

Eames grins over the idea. “So you got him out his contract?”

“Yes and now Cobb dodges him whenever they’re at the same function which is always amusing.”

“I had noticed that, but I hadn’t realized Marcus had lost it so badly.”

“It was a bit strange. Cobb wasn’t being particularly difficult.”

Eames coughs, “I suspect you mean Cobb was an appalling pain in the neck, as always, and you’re just surprised someone called him on it because most people don’t.”

“Maybe. A lot of people find him difficult, but the only people who’ve really lost it are Marcus and you a time or two, although you’ve never actually hit him. So you should have sympathy with Marcus.”

“Ohhh,” says Eames as enlightenment dawns. “Marcus wouldn’t happen to be one of your lot, would he?”

“My lot? Oh. Well, I’d hardly tell anyone if he was,” says Arthur, too blandly for it to be anything but a yes. “What makes you think that anyway?”

“Gaydar isn’t solely your prerogative.” Which is true enough although it’s not the truth. Eames knows exactly what makes him really lose it with Dominic Cobb and he suspects Marcus, poor bloke, is a fellow suffer. Arthur is amazing and to have Cobb treat him as his personal skivvy is infuriating. If Eames didn’t dislike punching people so much, he’d have thumped him too.

“Fair enough,” says Arthur. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Eames rolls his eyes at him. 

“Sorry.” Arthur hunches up apologetically.

“Don’t worry. He’s a friend, I get it.” A friend who’d have liked to be more. Did Arthur even realize that? On current showing that seemed unlikely. When this shoot is finally over, Eames is going to look the poor bugger up and take him out for a drink and commiserations. 

“Thanks.” Arthur relaxes back in his seat and knuckles his eyes. “Tiredness is making me paranoid.”

“It’s fine.” The caution had been reflexive. If Arthur really didn’t trust him they’d have been warnings and threats. Eames hates that Arthur’s life has made him so instinctively wary but he’ll never hold it against him.

“So, uh,” Arthur blinks across at him.

“Yes?” says Eames and hopes Arthur wants something unimportant like a kidney because he has no chance of saying no to him with Arthur like this, all soft and sleep-fuzzed.

“Can I ask you a possibly insensitive question about, um –?”

Eames grits his teeth and braces himself, “Sure go ahead,” because the only thing guaranteed to be worse than whatever the question happens to be is obsessing for the next week over what the question was and then breaking down and telling Arthur to just ask his damn question already.

“I read up about…”

“Recently?” 

“Oh no, ages ago. And I was wondering, the articles, they said bisexuals might lean one way or the other, to men or to women. Do you do that? I know you mostly date women.”

Eames stares at Arthur for a moment. Arthur blinks back. 

“I am not straight,” says Eames roughly, “or a closeted gay.” Those are the two accusations that come his way most often and they’re both annoying.

“I know that,” Arthur struggles to sit up to better express his indignation.

Eames feels his surprise slip past his deliberately calm expression, “You do?”

“Of course.” Arthur abandons sitting up straight and curls in on his side so he can look at Eames more easily, “This is Hollywood, I know closeted gays.” His fingers wiggle in a counting gesture, “I may know more closeted, than non-closeted although it’s getting better lately.”

“And you know I’m not one?”

“Closets cramp you. You’re one of the least cramped people I know.”

“Thank you, I think.”

“It’s a good thing, you’re easy to breathe around.”

That was two for two on the weird compliments front, but Eames is at least reasonably certain they were compliments. It abruptly occurs to him this is why Arthur loves Mallorie and Cobb so much. Because they’re both completely uncramped and uncloseted. Or they were until they started twisting each other into knots. It makes him feel sad for them and he maybe understands a little better why Arthur’s been turning himself inside out to try and help them.

He scratches his nose and decides to stick to talking about his probable bisexuality because that’s actually the easier conversation for once.

“I’ve had people tell me I’m straight when I’m with a woman and gay when I’m with a man.” Eames isn’t entirely sure that’s wrong. It would probably simplify things.

Arthur shakes his head firmly sending his fringe flopping about, “Nuh-uh. That makes it sound like you’re changing your mind, or undecided, and you’re not.”

A warm little glow grows inside Eames at the acceptance.

“What I wanted to know,” Arthur looks a little aggravated that Eames derailed his question, “Was given you usually date women, do you prefer women in general, on the understanding you do like both but can still have a preference for one over the other – and I am making any sense at all or just being insulting?”

“You’re fine,” says Eames, charmed by Arthur’s uncharacteristically fumbling speech. “And I think I’m one of those who’s genuinely close to fifty-fifty. I mean it’s hard to compare what’s inside your head with what’s inside someone else’s head,”

Arthur nods with the fervency of somebody who’s had his own issues with this.

“But women are easier.”

Arthur’s nose wrinkles up with doubt.

“Oh not necessarily for sex, although whatever stereotype you’re working off is probably only half right. On any given night, there are a lot of women out for no strings sex, they just usually like it if you make them breakfast the next morning.”

He can feel himself flushing in anticipation at what he’s about to say, but Arthur was right, closets are cramped and this is Arthur, if he can’t be honest with him, Eames should just give up and go home.

“At one point in my life, the bed and breakfast were the crucial parts of the deal.” And then he closes his eyes because the shame of desperation never really leaves you.

There’s a soft rustle and Arthur’s hand reaches across the gap between them to grip his arm tightly.

“I can see how that would have been helpful,” Arthur’s voice is painfully casual and there’s a second where Eames thinks he’s just made everything horribly awkward, and then Arthur adds, “Guys never wanted to take me home, or if they did it was a probably sign I didn’t want to go. So usually I just picked their pockets.” 

His hand trembles around Eames’ arm. Eames twists gently to break his grip and then catches Arthur’s hand in both of his before he can retreat. He strokes his thumb across the knuckles.

“You should’ve done worse than that, love. How old where you?”

“Oh I was old enough.”

Eames would like to dispute that. Arthur joined TOSA at eighteen, at nineteen he was in Hollywood with Mallorie and earning. His life is a matter of public record from that point on. He was too young.

“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?” He has to admit he’s curious. His own story was simply a boring well-worn slide from in care to running wild to in a gang and the only unusual part was he got out before he ended up dead or in jail.

“Nothing exciting. I’m gay and my parents weren’t religious enough to bother with anything else in the bible except that one passage in Leviticus. They fitted right in with the neighbors there. They were all the sort who don’t even realize they’re homophobic; it’s not like they want gays killed or anything, they just don’t want that sort around them.”

“I know the type.”

“Actually if they hadn’t been so anti, I’d probably never have figured out what it meant that I spent longer watching Bobby in class than Annaliese – poor girl developed breasts at twelve, all the boys loved Annaliese. So I have my fiercely homophobic parents to thank for giving me a name for what I am. That’s really rather amusing.”

Arthur doesn’t sound amused. Eames isn’t either, “Did they hurt you?”

“Not the way you mean. No more than living with people who hate what you are hurts.”

“That would be a lot then.”

Arthur shrugs his shoulders uncomfortable. “There are some awful stories out there. None of that happened to me.”

“What did happen to you?”

“Oh it was too stupid. There were a few of us in High School who got bullied for – well they called us fags but they meant too small, too clever, too into drama club, I’m pretty sure Elias at least was straight as a ruler – so we sort of hung out together. Then Ricky, who actually was gay, got caught with, well I never found out exactly what but it must have been fairly damning. His parents went ballistic. Ricky panicked and threw me under the bus.”

“Little sod.” 

“Whatever. It wasn’t like we were really friends anyway. And I came out of it okay, Ricky wouldn’t have, so it was better this way.”

“Your parents chucked you out?”

“Didn’t wait around long enough for it to get that far. See my parents, they supported those conversion camps, even donated money to help get kids on the right path.”

Eames’ stomach rolls slow and sickeningly. “ _Please_ tell me that didn’t happen to you.”

“No, I wasn’t going to let it. The kids who get stuck in those places, they probably liked their parents, or at least believed their parents wouldn’t hurt them. Me, I denied everything that evening, which they maybe believed but I wasn’t going to chance it, so that night I ran away and didn’t look back.”

“Ever go back?”

“No. I’m not famous like Mal or Dom but I’m hardly unknown. If they wanted to find me they could, so they obviously don’t.”

Eames’ hands have clenched up into fists. He really wants to punch something. Alternatively he wants to come up with something comforting to say, but his mind is blank and Arthur doesn’t look like he needs comfort. He looks old and tired as if it all happened a hundred years ago and is impossibly irrelevant.

Then Arthur grins, eyes scrunching up with genuine humor, “Of course it wasn’t all bad. I left them a note like every teenage cliché ever.”

“And what did this note say?” Eames asks curiously because it’s not like he doesn’t know Arthur has a twisted sense of humor.

“The worst of them at school, Mike, was the football captain and an utter fuck, I swear he watched teen movies to pick up ways to be a shit. So I left my parents a note telling them Mike was my boyfriend, and I was running away to him because he’d protect me and never let them find me. Sometimes I wonder how long it took him to convince them he had no idea where I was and nothing to do with me.”

“Darling, is it possible there’s a small town out there that believes you were brutally murdered by your high school boyfriend.”

Arthur sniggers, “That would be amazing in a really horrible way. But no, I sent Elias a letter when I got to LA six weeks later asking him get them to lay off Mike if they hadn’t already. Elias was cool. I think we could have been friends.”

For the sake of his sanity Eames ignores the faint wistfulness and concentrates on the logistics.

“LA? I thought you were a New York baby?”

“Oh I tried LA first. I was always desperate to break into acting. But I soon found out the only offers were for porn and fortunately I had enough sense to know if I did that I was never going to be able to go back to mainstream acting.”

“You were underage,” Eames grabs Arthur’s arm because holy shit he nearly got himself murdered before Eames ever met him, “you were underage, none of those offers could have been remotely legitimate.”

“Oh I wasn’t sensible enough for that,” Arthur laughs casually and Eames wants to shake him til his teeth rattle. “I just knew appearing in porn would ruin any chance of a career. Not that porn isn’t a career but I wanted… acting, if that makes any sense.”

“Yeah, you’d have made a rubbish porn star anyway.” 

Arthur’s face screws up in thought for a long moment, then he beams brilliantly. “That was a compliment.” His face shadows overs, “I think anyway.”

“Yes it was a compliment, you ridiculous person.”

Arthur’s acting style is far too restrained for something as obvious as pornography. He’s all about nuance. He can convey hopeless devotion for Mallorie’s femme fatale with nothing more than his eyes. It’s physically painful to watch.

“Two compliments,” Arthur delightedly waves two fingers under Eames’ nose accidentally swearing at him at in the process. 

Eames laughs because Arthur is just too ridiculous for words.

 

**tvtropes** – Arthur

Arthur is the husband or boyfriend of the female lead at the start who gets left behind when she hooks up with male lead. The trope namer is the actor Arthur who has played this role to Mallorie Cobb’s female lead in their eight movies together: College Daze, Someday, Jesse’s Girl, Leaving in Your Eyes, Midnight at Saragossa, Dancing with Carmilla, A Constant Lady, The Scarlet Rose, and Neon Nights. While a major trope, theories differ on why Arthur continually takes the role. It has been suggested the role comes from Real Life (unlikely Arthur is gay, people) or that Arthur is merely very good at portraying heartbreak, or possibly indentured servitude (nothing else makes sense!).

Discussion

It’s not their most popular film but Arthur in Leaving in Your Eyes makes me wibble.

>>A Scarlet Rose is worse, watching the way he breaks down, falls to knees and just kisses the spot on the balcony where she’d been standing, it gets me every time.

>>>>That’s overly flashy for Arthur. You should watch Neon Nights. He doesn’t do anything but look at her and you can just see how much he adores her. It just destroys me cause Carter is totally Genre Savvy, he _knows_ Stella is setting him up to take the fall and he just _lets_ her. My poor heart.


	9. Chapter 9

**perezhilton** – Control freak in other people’s sheets 

It’s an open secret that producer Arthur micro-manages every aspect of his movies to the last inch, until he comes across less as a consummate professional and more as a nagging wife.

Now his control freakery has apparently reached ever greater heights. He has forbidden star Eames from proposing to new love Ariadne. What possible reason could there be for such a pronouncement? 

It turns out Arthur feels that publicity from the romance is over-shadowing Mallorie Cobb and this is something he refuses to allow. Arthur’s devotion to the woman who brought him to Hollywood is well known but is now reaching toxic levels.

 

How dare Arthur think he can stop Eames getting engaged #TeamEames

Arthur is a d---. Ariadne is lovely and she’s perfect with Eames #TeamAriames

They’re just friends #platonicfriendshipsexist #seriouslypeople

Eames isnt much of a man if he lets some a—hole stop him proposing. Ariadne deserves better #TeamAriadne

How is this story even getting traction? #aconstantscandal #igiveup

Most manufactured scandal ever. Nobody can stop you getting engaged #TeamCommonSense

Arthur could #Trufax #arthurisawesome #TeamArthur

 

Arthur sinks back into his seat and Eames can almost see the wave of tiredness roll over him. As he sighs and snuggles back into his seat, Eames leans over and tucks the blanket back around him. In the bright light of the plane, Arthur’s skin is grey and he looks hollowed out with exhaustion. Eames is going to speak to Della about knockout drops in Arthur’s coffee because this isn’t happening again.

“So porn was out,” Arthur continues dreamily, and Eames shivers because it’s as if Arthur is describing some half-forgotten movie plot, not his own life, “and the not wanting to wreck a movie career I didn’t even have also kept me away from serious drugs and the sort of prostitution you get arrested for.”

Eames jabs him with his elbow to try and jolt him back into the here and now.

“You were a dedicated little drama club geek,” he teases because he thinks otherwise he’d cry.

Arthur blinks languidly three or four times, then a cautious smile, 

“It’s embarrassing I know, but I was determined. LA didn’t pan out so I ended up doing a midnight flit to New York. Things were better there. I was sixteen by then so I managed to pick up some legitimate work, took the test to get my GED, did some acting, got discovered by one of the lecturers at TSOA who thought I was an adorable twink and helped me into college, and then decided I was distinctly less adorable when I wanted to tell people about us because he wasn’t gay and if I told anybody they’d laugh to think he’d associate with gutter trash like me.” 

Arthur hunches in on himself like the guy being a total dick was somehow his fault. Eames hopes the guy still has nightmares of Arthur outing him as the sort of trash who takes advantage of desperate teenagers.

“Is it too late to go break someone’s arms?” Then he adds – deliberately, because honesty deserves honesty – “Because I used to do that on a semi-professional basis.” 

Instead of laughing like he’d hoped, Arthur’s face goes all sharp and concerned. “I’m sorry.”

“What the hell are you sorry for?”

“You wouldn’t have liked that.”

“What’s liking got to do with anything.” Although Arthur’s right. It was back when his choices were hard man or soft prey so he learnt how to sell the con out of pure desperation. He can still hear the crack of bone after that one fight on the edge of his nightmares.

“Nothing I know. Is that why you came to the US?”

“It was becoming apparent breaking the odd bone in a fight wasn’t enough. Relocating appeared to a necessary step.”

Arthur squints at him suspiciously, “That seems unusually like planning for you Mr Eames.”

Eames squirms because it’s all very well him knowing Arthur, but when did Arthur start knowing him, “Alright fine, I had to nick a friend’s passport and skip town before I was arrested, or someone put a bullet in the back of my head.”

“Jesus,” Arthur blinks rapidly, “Are you even in the country legally?”

“They let me in,” he protests. “I mean there was a bit of a kerfuffle at the airport your side because it turns out Danny was carting drugs about on the side but – ”

“Eames are you seriously telling me that when you needed to flee the country you stole a _drug-smuggler’s_ passport.”

“No.” That would be ridiculous. “Danny wasn’t a drug-smuggler. He was far too good for that. He was just slumming with us. He was a posh boy. Went to Eton. Although he always laughed and called it Slough Grammar.” Eames still wasn’t quite sure why that was funny but he hadn’t liked to ask.

Arthur’s eyes have gone very narrow. He looks like he does when he’s trying to figure out exactly how Cobb’s screwed him over this time.

“I’m sorry,” Eames says preemptively. “Also in my defense Danny was the only one of us with a passport, a passport I could get at anyway.”

Arthur still looks like he’s working out who he needs to have killed. “And why exactly did you have access to this Danny’s passport?”

“We were,” Eames stalls then because he’s never quite sure what to call what he and Danny did. Eames had been quite desperately in love and Danny hadn’t been. He’d always known that. Although he hadn’t quite realized how much Danny wasn’t in love until – yeah he hadn’t realized. Eames had been a bit slow in those days.

“You were, huh?” says Arthur.

“It was just fucking around,” but he winces as he says it.

“Uh huh. And Danny couldn’t help you out when you got yourself in trouble? Maybe get you out of town for a time?”

Eames laughs, “No. We… they… All of us. We didn’t matter to Danny. Not really. We weren’t his real life. I think I always knew that. I mean I did think he’d at least lend me some money. But – he didn’t.”

“Fucker. At least Simon found me a place to stay.”

“He was more of a fuckee actually,” says Eames as he stores the name Simon away for later use. Arthur isn’t the only one who can research. 

“Oh?”

“He liked the idea of a bit of rough.”

“What on Earth was he doing with you then?”

“Hey! I’m plenty rough.” He rolls his shoulders forward and looms into Arthur’s space. Arthur looks distinctly unimpressed. He puts one hand flat against Eames’ sternum and applies the lightest of pressure.

Eames shifts back because he’s not, he’s never, going to fight Arthur. Arthur keeps his hand on Eames’ chest, not pushing just there solid and warm. Eames slumps back in his seat and he can feel his breathing pick up as panic begins to crawl through him. 

He’d never really made the connection between Danny and Arthur before because they are absolutely nothing alike, Danny was gossamer golden with a presence that could fill a room with liquid honey, whereas Arthur is dark and solid, a fixed point. Danny had – well Eames would rather not repeat that experience, but he’d survived, obviously. Arthur, on the other hand, Arthur could reach right into his chest and pull out his still-beating heart and Eames wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him. In fact Eames would let him.

He could really do without that epiphany.

“I was a con artist,” he protests. “A really good one too.”

“You worked in Vegas. Everyone is a con artist in Vegas unless they’re an outright crook, and the management are worst of all.”

In sheer desperation Eames flips back to Danny because that’s better than discussing his own shortcomings with Arthur of all people. 

“To be precise I said he liked the idea of a bit rough. If he wanted actual rough he’d have picked Carter or Mahoney.”

“What was Danny’s full name?” asks Arthur, so limpidly innocent that alarm bells go off in Eames’ mind.

“Why are you asking?”

“I just need to know what name you came into the country under.”

Oh. That makes sense. “Daniel George Nathaniel FitzWilliam Daubney.”

Arthur writes it into his pocketbook and then rings it carefully and smiles. When he looks back up at Eames he’s frowning again,

“So what happened when you got to the States?”

Eames sighs with relief at an easy question. “Well they’d obviously been tracking Danny for a while and decided to pounce then. So really Danny was jolly lucky I nicked his passport because his father would not have been pleased having to get him out of that mess. Danny’s father did not approve of, well, anything. Which I think is mostly why Danny did it. He was supposed to go to Oxford, you know, but instead he took up with us, and then with me in particular. He caught us once, Danny’s father did. He, well I’d say he looked at me like something the cat dragged in, but that would imply he actually looked at me. Anyway he told Danny he better never try and bring me home and Danny,” – laughed – “assured him that wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Really,” says Arthur and rings Danny’s name again in his book.

It dawns on Eames that he’s wandered completely off-topic. He hadn’t realized he had so many words stored up to say about Danny. With an effort he wrenches himself back onto the subject Arthur actually asked him about and is interested in.

“So they grabbed me at Customs, I probably did a pretty good job of looking worried because I thought they’d cottoned on about the passport and I really didn’t want to be sent back to London.”

Arthur taps his pen against his notebook cover, “Is that still an issue? London?”

“What?”

“Dom wants us to film at a real stately home because he wants to see if he can make my head explode for trying to stretch the budget six ways to Sunday, which will mean flying to the UK. Is that going to be a problem for you? I can work something out.”

“I’m clear. Carter came over eighteen months later and told me everyone was dead or in jail. A few of us are still around but nobody who’ll make an issue of it.”

“And the police. You said they were interested in you.”

“Probably still would be if I went back as,” he breaks off.

“Eames, are you seriously going to pretend I don’t know your real name.”

He sighs because of bloody course Arthur knows his real name. “Honestly, are you a wizard, darling?”

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I don’t,” he breaks off again because he doesn’t – he doesn’t like using that name, he doesn’t like remembering when he was that person, and he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Hey, I get it.” Arthur bumps his elbow against Eames’ arm. “I don’t use my surname either.”

He brushes his knuckles over the back of Arthur’s hand. “So if I went back as him they might bang me up and try and sweat something out of me. But Eames, Eames has money, access to lawyers,”

“Friends,” adds Arthur.

“An Arthur,” Eames corrects, because he spends a lot of time not being sure where he stands with Arthur but he is completely sure Arthur wouldn’t leave him to rot in jail. The warmth of this knowledge is somewhat countered by the fact he doesn’t think Arthur would leave anyone to rot in jail, but it’s still nice to know.

“An Arthur,” Arthur agrees.

“I’m too much trouble.”

“Arthur’s are often too much trouble,” says Arthur. His face can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing.

“Only to the obnoxious.”

Arthur smiles at him, “So let’s recap. You stole a drug-smugglers passport to flee to the US and got grabbed by Customs.”

“It sounds bad when you put it that way,” Eames pouts.

“That’s because it is bad,” says Arthur. “But I suppose it’s better than you getting measured for concrete overshoes or whatever it is they do in England.”

“Thank you darling. I thought so too. And I’d probably have become part of the Docklands regeneration, unless I got knifed in jail.”

The pen wobbles in Arthur’s hands and he deliberately stills it. “Tell me about Customs.”

“Luckily they did not pick up on the fact I wasn’t Danny.”

“I expect it didn’t occur to them somebody was going to pretend to be their drug-smuggler.”

Eames glowers at Arthur for the condescension. “Stop calling Danny a drug-smuggler. He’d be horrified.”

“That’s not really an inducement. And did you look that much like the not a drug-smuggler?”

“No, but the photo was from when Danny was sixteen. He didn’t look that much like his picture any more either. It was obviously him if he was standing in front of you but it could have been practically anybody.”

Arthur nods, “And then?”

“Well, I had a smart suit and I put on a good accent and I played up how mad my father would be with me about the scandal if he heard and maybe cried a bit. They couldn’t find any drugs, obviously, though it was probably a good thing I didn’t borrow one of Danny’s suitcases, and in the end they felt so sorry for me at missing my ride to Vegas that they chipped in to buy me a bus ticket out there.”

Arthur sighs like his disappointment in the world cannot be contained, “Of course they did.”

“I told you I’m a con artist.”

“Hmph. So when did you get your paperwork sorted out?” His scowl intensifies. “Did you get your paperwork sorted out?”

“Um. I’m not entirely sure. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I told the first film company I was there on a tourist visa and they said they’d sort things out. I, well first I didn’t really care, and then I thought it was okay. But I don’t actually have a passport.” He shrugs his shoulders and tries to smile but he knows he sounds like an idiot. “I guess I’m not sure what’s going on.” 

He recognizes that he should have asked more questions, but first it hadn’t really thought it would matter, then somehow he was film star and by the time he got his head on straight, sometime after Constant Lady, it was just easier not to think about because he had no idea what to do. 

Arthur jolts like the words have stung him, 

“Fruin was producer for Our Man in Mombasa, wasn’t he? He couldn’t organize a fuck in a whorehouse. Jesus there’s no way you’re in the country legally. How has nobody noticed?”

“You’re getting positively crude, darling.”

“I’m being positively restrained.” The shock has blasted away the last remnants of Arthur’s sleep-fuzziness. He runs his hands through his hair somehow getting it to fall back into respectability and retrieves his pocketbook,

“Alright let’s work out how bad the damage is.”

Eames sighs over the loss of relaxed Arthur, “It’s fine. You seem to pay me alright. And I know I pay taxes.” He made sure of that. He is not being done for tax fraud.

“I pay your production company. And it always seemed odd you had a production company just for you but now it makes sense. It wouldn’t work any other way. The production company tells the producer the paperwork’s in order and we go with that. Your accountant’s either criminal or criminally negligent.” His face sharpens, “Let’s find out which. Where’s my phone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Texting my lawyer. I need to get some people teed up to sort this out.”

“It’s fine,” says Eames grumpily, although he’s reasonably sure it’s not exactly fine. It can’t be as bad as Arthur’s making out though. It’s been ticking along without problems for years now. And it’s made Arthur switch back into stressed out work mode.

“It will be fine when Immigration have laughed it off as a paperwork snafu. Right now it is not fine. How did you ever get back in the country…? Wait you haven’t left since you arrived, have you?”

“No.” Because Eames wasn’t entirely sure what would happen and there’s no point borrowing trouble.

“Hang on, is this why you turned down Devil of Deep Blue Sea?”

Eames shrugs his shoulders, “You were filming in the Caribbean. Fairly sure a passport would be required.”

“Fuck, why didn’t you say so?”

Eames doesn’t bother answering that because he thinks it’s fairly self-evident and instead adds, “Also it was a dreadful film.”

“It would have been significantly less dreadful if you’d be in it instead of poor Robert.”

“Probably. How did you get Robert anyway? He’d been pretty adamant he was done with films when I stayed with him.”

“How do you think? Dom remembered him from Carmilla and, after you turned me down, decided Robert would do as a replacement. When Robert turned him down, he went to Maurice.”

“Bastard.”

“I know. Everyone knew Robert had walked away, even though Maurice had hushed it up for the press. But no, Dom decided, he needed Robert for the film so he went out and got him. I was – ” Arthur tugs at the sleeves of his pajamas, if he was in a suit he’d shoot his cuffs, “– annoyed. But there was nothing I could do. Maurice laid on the heavy duty emotional blackmail and Robert agreed to yet another ‘one last film’.”

“Poor kid.” Eames doesn’t understand exactly why Robert Fischer had such a hard time in front of the cameras, it’s easy enough work in the scheme of things and Robert had been doing it since he could toddle, but he does understand that Robert did have a hard time. Which was something his father either refused to see or just didn’t care about. 

Arthur’s pen taps in agitation, “I’d have walked off set and left Dom to sink, but Robert wanted me to stay and I couldn’t leave him. He was half a step from cracking completely the whole movie. When I finally got him on the plane out of there and back to Montana, I think _I_ nearly collapsed with a nervous breakdown.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t yes to The Devil. It was poor repayment for you and Robert.” They had both helped him and all Eames had done in return was let them get sucked into one of Cobb’s morasses.

Arthur shakes his head. “Robert was, well not alright, but Maurice would have made him do another film sooner or later. Better it was with me. And Veronique was a bad actress but she was a good person. It could have been a lot worse for him.”

Eames feels a little better about that. “And afterwards you fixed it so he’d never get another role.”

Arthur grins slow and malicious, “Such a shame. Maurice can hardly pressure him into accepting if no one’s offering him a role.”

Eames grins back. “Too true, darling, too true.”

 

**Aconstantladyfanwiki.com** \- Alternative fansites for A Constant Lady and Blue Orchids

In a sea of tumblrs and blogs devoted, together and separately, to the stars Eames and Mallorie Cobb and the director Dominic Cobb, there are a few sites dedicated to the lesser known names.

Updated to include Blue Orchids and its brand new star Ariadne

 

**teamadorable.tumblr.com**

Eames and Ariadne. Ariadne and Eames. Ariames. Whatever name you use they are Team Adorable. If in doubt just see these shots of Ariadne supporting Eames during his recent press conference.

today – Team Adorable split up. I just want to smack Arthur. How dare he separate them.

Pic. Eames on his own at the airport  
Pic. Ariadne leaving the Blue Orchids set on her own

**ariadneonfilm.tumblr.com**

Because as much as well all like to talk about Ariadne and Eames, Ariadne is amazing in her own right. Why should the Pop Idol fans get to keep her to themselves? So this blog is dedicated to Ariadne and her film career.

today – Ariadne is at the music studio recording the theme for Blue Orchids. So proud of our girl. Hopefully we’ll get a hint about the song

Pic. Ariadne singing on the Pop Idol stage

**arthurisawesome.tumblr.com**

Tumblr devoted to the awesomeness that is Arthur. You can keep your Dominics and Mallories and Eameses. Arthur is where it’s at.

today – As much as we love watching Arthur stride around in a sharp suit being a devastatingly effective producer, when is he going to start acting? If Blue Orchids ends up like Inception and having no Arthur scenes, I’m boycotting. Who’s with me?

Pic. Arthur striding around in a sharp suit being a devastatingly effective producer

**fuckyeaharthurandeames.tumblr.com**

Sure you can laugh at my slash goggles, but don’t even try and tell me they’re not friends. Stop listening to the rumor mill and actually look at them together.

today – Arthur and Eames fly out together. Do these people look like they’re fighting?

Pic. Eames carrying the bags while Arthur looks after the coffees.

 

“Okay,” Arthur glances back down at his pocket book. “We should be fine. It’s so long ago now they’d have hard time proving anything one way or the other. Not that that is a reason to leave things in limbo like that. Understand?” Arthur’s focus snaps back towards him and Eames tries not to flinch.

“Yes.” And then, “Sorry,” because he is sorry Arthur’s had to abandon his five minutes of relaxation to sort Eames’ shit out.

“It’s fine. You picked a good time to drop this in my lap because I can co-opt Saito’s legal team and they are an absolute dream to work with.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Total sharks, but competent ones and you don’t have to spend twenty minutes stroking their egos before they’ll do anything. They like me too.”

“Of course they do, love.”

“There’s no of course about it. They couldn’t stand me until Cobb’s agent and their lawyer got involved and then when the Pop Idol lawyers came on board with Ariadne… well, Saito’s chief guy, he apologized to me, said he realized actually I was the most reasonable man in Hollywood and if the boss stayed on the movie kick would I like to come and work for them and deal with the rest of Hollywood on their behalf.”

Eames grins, “See, of course they do.”

“Which is good because they have the sort of specialists who can deal with immigration problems in no time at all and they’ll all feel sorry for me for having to deal with you as well as Dom.”

“Hey.” Eames freezes in place, “Do not compare me to dear Dominic. If I’m causing you that many problems just leave me to sink.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You’re nothing like Dom, nothing at all.” Arthur sounds so very sure about Eames decides to count it as a third compliment. “I didn’t mean it like that. I _want_ to help you.”

Eames wonders if Saito’s miraculous lawyers know how to hire a hitman because he is going to find some way to murder Dominic Cobb, he swears it.

“You’re not expecting six impossible things before breakfast either. We’ll get it sorted in a snap, I promise. Might need you to put on a performance of a creative genius who doesn’t understand mundane things like paperwork, you can do that right?”

“Be a bit blond and flirt charmingly? I can do that.”

Arthur smacks himself in the forehead, “Of course you can. All you’re going to need to do is smile at them. Oh, and I know you hate doing it, but this is kind of an emergency, so maybe you play up your dyslexia a bit.”

Eames goes cold all over, “I do not have dyslexia.”

“Sure you do.” Arthur has the nerve to look puzzled. “I’ve seen the notes you make on your scripts. The middle of the words look like somebody chewed them up and spat them out. I used to think you were deliberately spelling things every which way imaginable until I found out that’s one of the key indicators of dyslexia.”

“I do not have dyslexia.” He wants to shout but the self-protective anger just isn’t coming and instead can only ask quietly, “are they really that bad?”

“They’re not bad. They’re just – Eamesian.”

“Do not patronize me.” Oh good, and here’s anger, too late but still wonderfully warm.

“I’m not.” Arthur is still looking puzzled. Eames is going to smack him in a minute. How can he sit there so casual. “Eames this isn’t a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal.” The shadow’s loomed over his whole life from the moment he was old enough to realize how stupid and defective he was.

“It’s really not. I know it’s a sore spot though. Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No it’s fine. I’m the one idiotic enough to end up with no papers, so there’s no point pretending not to be stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” flares Arthur, “I didn’t say that. Stop twisting my words.”

“Sure, sure, it’s not my fault I have dyslexia, I’m just naturally stupid.”

“You are not stupid and dyslexia has nothing to do with intelligence. Honestly now you’re just being difficult. I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”

Eames stares at Arthur for a full minute but he can see absolutely no signs of deception. Arthur isn’t even paying him any attention any more, he’s fully focused on his pocketbook.

“You don’t want to fix me?” 

Because when people didn’t think he was stupid they wanted to fix him. There had been that teacher who had told him he was defective and then wanted him to take extra classes like he was some sort of swot. Barry who’d wanted him to improve himself and was convinced if he just tried harder – honestly Danny’s _don’t bother giving Eames that book he can’t fucking read it_ attitude was easier to take.

Then there had been Mindy who he’d lived with for six months in Vegas. After he’d explained to her for the thousandth time that he had no interest in being promoted to Casino Supervisor, she had come back one day with colored screens, reading rulers, and who knew what. Eames didn’t because he started shouting shortly after the third whatjamacalit was waved under his nose. Then Mindy gave up on cloyingly sympathetic and started shouting back about Eames failure to appreciate her buying a stack of things he neither wanted nor needed and suddenly Eames was slamming out the apartment as brightly colored plastic floated around the room like a discarded rainbow. 

And that was how his last serious relationship ended. He glares some more at Arthur. Who is still not paying him any attention.

“Are you broken?” Arthur asks distractedly.

“No,” Eames snaps back.

“Then you don’t need fixing, do you.”

Eames wants to shake him. “Don’t you have any sort of opinion at all?”

“Is this still about you being dyslexic? Am I supposed to have an opinion?”

“Everybody else sure seems to.”

Arthur finally puts his damn book down and turns to face him, “Can you explain why this is a thing?”

“I don’t know.” Eames waves his hands around in exasperation. “It seems to be a thing to everybody else. I can barely read, shouldn’t that be a thing?”

“You can read just fine, it just takes you longer than average. Your spelling is admittedly atrocious but that’s what spell-check and proof-reading is for.”

Eames gapes at him. He doesn’t understand how Arthur can be so matter of fact. And yes technically Arthur was insulting his ability to spell, but it doesn’t sound like an insult the way it does when most people do it, it just sounds like a thing that is.

Arthur’s still speaking, “I presume it’s one of the reasons your memory is so consistently accurate, even for an actor it’s outstanding. You prefer to have somebody go through the script with you three or four times so you have it all in place but that’s easy to arrange.”

Eames stares, because that’s true. Usually he has to get Kiko to read it through for him, which she does while whining about wasting her valuable time and can’t he just sign up for some courses, they have some really good aids for people with difficulties these days. (Kiko doesn’t use the word dyslexia anymore because it tends to make Eames flee the house. He can’t yell at Kiko but he can sure remove himself from the area. Eames would have fled this conversation but twenty thousand feet without a parachute is a bit much even for him.)

But on any production associated with Arthur, Arthur will read the script through with him. Eames liked that damnit. It as his own special time with Arthur and all Arthur was doing was managing him.

“So that was just you managing me all that time?”

Arthur’s staring like he’s lost track of the conversation again, “Yes I manage people all the time. It’s my job, Eames. I manage Mal’s desire to live like she’s in a forties movie, I manage Dom’s insane perfectionism, I manage – that’s what I do. You’re easy, it isn’t even work, I help you out with the script reads, and apparently immigration which I admit I did not see coming, but it’s still easy in comparison.”

Arthur sounds so indignant Eames can’t help but smile.

“Hendry needs three interns to keep track of him, and preferably at least one starry-eyed groupie to fuck, otherwise he gets bored and runs off to get stoned out his skull and do utterly moronic things like try a steal a penguin.”

“Seriously? Black and white, catch fish, like to give each other pebbles, penguin?”

“Are there any other sorts of penguin? The moron apparently though he was in a batman movie or something. He was sniggering too hard to make much sense.” Arthur points one imperative finger at him, 

“And don’t even think about telling a soul. If the crazy end of the animal rights brigade find out all hell will break loose. I was just lucky the zoo wanted to head off a string of copycat attempts and was willing to hush it up for a sizeable donation.

“Rachel Clemens, she always demands an entire separate trailer for her clothes and stylist. Do you have any idea how much that fucks with hierarchy on set? I have to get everyone else solid gold taps or something equally stupid, otherwise they all kick off. And then Tom Steele likes to learn his lines with his music on full volume. He says it helps the process but meanwhile everyone’s half-deaf from _Two Out of Three Aint Bad_. 

“Then there are always idiots who always want to be agreed with. Do you have any idea how hard it is to call someone an idiot while you’re agreeing with them?”

“I’m sure you manage just fine darling.”

“Well obviously, but it’s exhausting. People are exhausting. Look at poor Robert. I love him dearly but he was exhausting to work with. And Veronique brought her acting coach on set who hated Cobb, disagreed with everything he said, and accused him of sexism for making Veronique wear a corset and stockings. Which sure, there’s a number of serious conversations about sexism in movies that need to happen, but Veronique was a Victoria’s secret model, she was hired because she looked good strutting about in her underwear.”

“It certainly wasn’t for her acting abilities, poor woman. Whatever happened to her anyway?”

“I managed to convince her acting wasn’t her thing – I’m not sure she ever really wanted to act to be honest, I think she mostly just wanted not to be a Victoria’s secret model anymore – and maybe she wanted to consider further education. She did a degree in history of design and now makes period accurate costumes for reenactors. I asked her if she wanted to come on board for this film but she said she’d had enough of Hollywood and if she saw Cobb again she’d probably throttle him with her tape-measure so we decided perhaps best not.”

“Your job is insane,” says Eames. He’s always know that but he doesn’t think he really understood it before.

“No my job is dealing with insane people. You’re the sanest person I now.”

“That’s mildly terrifying.” Rubbing his hand against the back of his neck, Eames tries to follow his thoughts through. For as long as he could remember he’d know he was defective, and now Arthur has found out, had in fact always know, and simply isn’t bothered, is treating the whole thing as a non-event. That’s…

Actually it was almost as if Arthur doesn’t realize he’s defective. That’s, Eames doesn’t really know what to do with that, but he likes it.

Arthur squares his shoulders and turns himself fully around in his seat so that he’s facing Eames directly,

“Okay, I’m obviously missing something. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.” 

Arthur’s eyes have scrunched up the way they do when he’s lost his footing in the conversation and is determined to get it back. Arthur is an odd duck, he’s perfectly fine staring down billionaire studio heads (Eames has seen him do it, it’s both inappropriately hot and terrifying, and infuriating because it really underscores the fact that Arthur _lets_ Dom Cobb get away with all the shit he pulls) but cocktail parties and award nights are his Achilles heel. 

Eames isn’t sure why, if it’s the noise, or the crowd, or having to hold still and be hugged all the time (Arthur will look progressively more miserable and bedraggled as an event drags on), or possibly it’s just that small talk is one of the very few things Arthur can’t do well, but he gets knocked off balance and can’t get it back. If Eames is at the same event he keeps an eye out and when Arthur gets that can’t keep up with the conversation scrunch face so that you can almost see the headache building behind his eyes, he’ll go over and fling his arm over Arthur’s shoulders and noisily derail the conversation onto tracks he can manage.

It’s not entirely altruistic. He enjoys the way that, although Arthur stiffens at yet another invasion of his personal space, he immediately relaxes when he realizes it’s Eames. Arthur will burrow in under his arm, even as he protests the interruption. Eames will ignore him and tow Arthur with him around the party being loud and obnoxious until the slight tremble in Arthur’s limbs has faded and Arthur can pull himself up, straighten his cuffs, and tell Eames he is a boorish nuisance.

What Eames does not like is Arthur pulling that face because of him. So he smiles big and says,

“You’re not doing anything wrong.” Because Arthur isn’t. It’s a little bit crazy that perfectionist-Arthur doesn’t care that Eames is a defective product but it’s not as if Eames is going to _complain_ about that

“No, there’s a problem somewhere. Tell me what it is so I can make it go away.” 

Eames looks at Arthur’s intent determined face, as if whatever was up was actually as important as all the other 101 critical things Arthur has to deal with every day, and loves him so much he can hardly breathe.

“Everything is fine Arthur, I promise.”

“Sure?”

“I’m sure. If you want to worry about something so badly, tell me how to get wireless on this ship of temptations so we can check on social media. I’m sure something new has gone tits up in the last few hours.”

Arthur laughs, “Probably. I don’t think I’ve worked on a project that had everyone sharpening their knives so hungrily since Midnight at Saragossa after Miles had his heart attack and they were all expecting the wheels to fall off the wagon. Even Inception wasn’t this bad.”

“I thought that was sold as getting the team back together again and everyone was thrilled to pieces?”

“Well yeah. I was the one that sold it. It took me three months and sixteen different aliases on the fan forums to get that ground swell of support. The original plan was to let the press trash us and then blow them away with the movie. Unfortunately there were, um, issues with that plan.”

“Namely that it was bloody awful.”

Arthur’s head wobbles as if he’s reluctant to agree with what everyone knows is the plain truth,

“It wasn’t that bad. That might have been easier actually. Sadly it was just good enough for everyone to see how very good it could have been, had it not been for, well, all the things that went wrong.”

“One of which was me. Sorry darling.”

Arthur shakes his head this time, “I mean it wasn’t one of your better roles. But you managed to avoid either insulting me, throwing bottles of perfume at my head, or dumping a pot of hot coffee in my lap. There’s no need for you to say sorry to me.”

“Mal threw hot coffee at you?” Eames can feel his anger shift beneath his skin. That’s well past being dramatic and into could seriously hurt someone territory.

“No that was Dom. Then he told me to clean up the mess. Sometimes Dom spends too long staring in Mal’s movie dreams.”

“Why would he do that?” Eames asks blankly, then feels like an idiot because the why doesn’t matter, there is no why that would make that acceptable.

“Because by then it was blatantly obvious that Inception was going to be a messy failure and he knew if he did it to you or Mal I’d destroy him.”

“I, thank you, but I’m no happier he did it to you.”

Arthur shrugs his right shoulder, “It wasn’t third-degree hot. Dom’s careful like that.”

When Eames can breathe again, he clutches Arthur’s arm with clawed fingers, “Love, that only makes it worse.”

Arthur shrugs again, complete incomprehension scrawled across his face

“Perhaps we could talk about something else,” because Eames won’t be able to live with himself if he shouts at Arthur now. He yanks he thoughts firmly away from Dominic Cobb’s iniquities, 

“Is there wifi? I refuse to believe Saito doesn’t have it set up.”

Arthur gives him a suspicious look but then thankfully accepts the change in subject, 

“Yes of course Saito has wifi built in. It’s the good sort too, the kind that uplinks to a satellite. Actually I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s Saito’s own satellite. It seems like the sort of thing he’d do.”

“Probably has three of them. Isn’t three you need to cover the earth?” Eames vaguely remembers that from one of his spy films. You pick up a lot of weird facts as an actor.

“I honestly have no idea. Do you really want to check up on what they’re saying about us?” Arthur asks and Eames has to bite his lip because Arthur sounds like a whiny child asking to play hooky.

“Not really but it seems like something we should know before we fall off the plane into the arms of the paparazzi.”

“Fair point,” says Arthur. He’s looking exhausted again. Eames is so kidnapping him and tying him to a bed like he heard Della and Ariadne snickering over. No naughty business either, just sleep, although, Arthur might like a blow job to settle him down – Eames smacks a hand over his face he can’t believe his brain just thought that, it’s usually much better behaved.

Resolutely he thinks of nothing at all as Arthur sighs, uncurls himself from his seat and staggers over to one of stewards and comes back with two tablets. He hands one to Eames,

“There you go. It’s all set up for you. Oh, and I’m positive Saito records you search history, so I probably wouldn’t check on anything you don’t want him to know about.”

Eames thinks about that for a moment, “The temptation to look up some really obscure porn is nearly irresistible.”

“Resist it,” Arthur advises, “Saito’s likely to send you a box set of the stuff and then ask you for your opinion.”

“Yikes, I’ll be good. Also that sounds frightenly like something you would do.”

“I’d never check your internet search history.”

“Thank you darling. I’ll take that as the compliment it is.”

Arthur smiles at him slyly because Arthur would totally check up on someone’s internet search history and use it to mess with them.

Finally Arthur sighs, “Alright, let’s find out what they’re saying about us now.”

“I already regret this idea.”

“It was your idea,” Arthur accuses.

“So? I regret a lot of my ideas.”

Arthur bumps his shoulder companionably, “You’re right though. We should check before we get off the plane.”

They check. 

Ariadne’s email is easy to pick out, the header is just a string of stars and exclamation marks.

“Ariadne seems excited about something.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur mutters, already clicking through the links and thumbing through web pages. “Della’s email is much the same.”

“Oh dear, they’re coordinating, that’s not a good sign.” Eames tilts his tablet at squints at the bright blue links Ariadne’s included. “Is one of these Perez?”

“Yeah,” says Arthur. “Though interestingly I don’t think he’s the source.”

“Well don’t keep on tenterhooks, what’s it about?”

“How I’ve banned you from proposing to Ariadne.”

“Seriously? That’s even more ludicrous than normal. You can’t stop somebody proposing.”

“Sure you can.” 

“Oh give over.”

“Well not proposing as such, but an announcement of an engagement, sure you can. It would depend how you wrote the contract, of course, but a tight enough publicity clause and it would be easy.”

“Blimey.” Eames thinks about that for a moment. If Arthur says it, it must be true but, “Seriously? You could stop me getting engaged?”

“Announcing your engagement, yes. Well, maybe not you specifically but in general yes.”

“Why not me specifically?”

“Because you’d punch me in the face and tell me to fuck the hell off.” 

“I would _never_ punch you in the face,” says Eames with utter sincerity.

“Maybe not me specifically, because I’d never stop you getting engaged.” The article Arthur’s reading must be bad because he’s stabbing at the tablet like he finds it personally offensive. “But if Dom tried to pull that shit on you…”

“That’s hardly conclusive, I’d punch Cobb in the face for free.”

Arthur just looks at him for a second, because okay Eames doesn’t go around punching people but he’d make an exception for Cobb, he really would.

“Anyway,” says Arthur, “My point is you’re a special case. If it came to the crunch and it really mattered, you’d walk away without even thinking about it, it’s one of things about you that drives Cobb insane – but most people won’t do that. So yes, you can stop engagement announcements for most people, although you’d need to be careful because it’s not the sort of thing that plays well, witness all the abuse I’m getting. Of course if I was stopping someone from announcing their engagement I’d be managing the press a hell of lot better.”

“Of course you would.” Eames grins because Arthur would be efficient in whatever he does. Then he thinks about how effectively Arthur could stop him getting engaged simply by saying no and slumps in his seat to feel maudlin, because it’s not like he could even ask the question without sounding like a crazy person. All this talk of proposing is breaking his brain.

Arthur swears so loudly and viciously that it catches the attention of the stewardess keeping an eye on them. Eames waves away her concern,

“Arthur, what’s the matter?” 

“Hush up and listen to this ‘ _Arthur told Eames to his face that he is absolutely forbidden from proposing to Ariadne. Eames is devastated. He was going to propose on Hollywood Boulevard, he had the whole thing planned out._ ’”

“It does not say that.”

“Look,” Arthur shoved his tablet in front of nose. Eames glanced down for form’s sake but didn’t bother trying to check. 

“How can it say that?”

“I’m not wrong, am I?” demands Arthur.

“If you mean you have actually officially forbidden me from proposing to Ariadne on Hollywood Boulevard then no, you’re not wrong. Was that Perez?”

“Interestingly no. He jumped in second without those details. Damn. I knew the set was a leaky sieve but that was just you and me. How did that get out there?”

“No idea. It wasn’t me if that’s what you’re asking,” Eames says stiffly, wondering if he should be offended.

“I wasn’t actually. Even if you were mad at me, you wouldn’t use Ariadne like that.”

Which is true enough he wouldn’t. He’d feel guilty about the fuss over their imaginary love affair, if Ariadne wasn’t so obviously getting such a kick out of it. But at the same time, why can’t Arthur see that he’d never do that him. 

Sometimes, for all his brilliance, Arthur is the densest man in existence.

 

**hotinhollywood** \- Chaos on set

With the chaos and in-fighting on the set of Blue Orchids we caught up with the guy who can give us the inside skinny. Marcus Kahanick took time out from filming in the spy thriller Dark Justice to join us coffee and spill just what it’s like working for the notorious Dominic Cobb and right-hand man Arthur.

Marcus is a little stiff at first. His head ducked down, he avoids my eyes and focuses on nervously tapping his coffee stirrer against the table. 

It’s well know that after the Cobbs got back together again, for the first time, they joined forces to create The Scarlet Rose. A follow-up to their mega-hit it didn’t attract as much attention as A Constant Lady but the movie, a throwback to the old Hollywood swashbucklers with Mallorie Cobb starring as the passionate eponymous heroine, a female Scarlet Pimpernel-expy, has its own hard core group of fans. 

What’s less well known is that Marcus Kahanick was originally signed to play the dashing French aristocrat she saves from the guillotine and with whom she runs away from her husband – inevitably played by the long-suffering Arthur – to assassinate the Jacobin Council. 

In the end the role went to Laszlo Esterhazy who won a Razzie for his efforts which he accepted in person and dedicated to his co-star for inspiring him to new heights. He later claimed he misunderstood and thought it was a serious award, which is believed by exactly no one but shows impressive arm-twisting on the part of the Cobbs’ hatchet man.

Everyone in this town knows the Cobbs are untouchable and one man who understands this all too well is Marcus Kahanick.

“Me and the Cobbs we’re cool,” he declares with desperate twitchy intensity.

I ask him about the reasons he walked away from a multi-million dollar movie contract. Marcus refuses to be drawn.

“It was for the best,” he says and when pushed takes refuge in, “Artistic differences.”

I ask him for his views on Arthur’s interference in Eames burgeoning relationship with Ariadne.

“Well Arthur will definitely have an opinion on Eames getting married.” He laughs harshly at a joke only he can see. “The thing you have to understand about Arthur is he will get the job done. He doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as it’s not Dominic or Mallorie Cobb.”

“So you think Eames should be careful.”

“Yeah I think Eames should be careful. Everyone should be careful. Arthur is completely ruthless. He’ll destroy anybody who stands in the Cobbs’ way it doesn’t matter who.


End file.
